


Fooled Around and Fell in Love

by Jael



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Clothed Sex, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Leonard Snart is a City Boy, Mary Xavier is a Time Lord, Mornings, Oral Sex, Quickies, Sci-Fi References, Sharing a Bed, Sleeping Together, Sparring, Training, more to come - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2020-12-27 05:43:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21113651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael
Summary: As the Legends' mission to defeat the Time Masters and Vandal Savage drags out, Sara and Leonard decide to pass time by blowing off some steam. But can they manage to keep the sex and their emotions separate...and do they really want to?





	1. I Must Have Been

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SylvanHeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvanHeather/gifts).

> Yeah, I know I have other things to write (and the next chapter of "With Eyes Wide Open" is well in progress). But this one popped into my head and I simply had to sit down and type out a conversation that takes place between Len and Mick in a future chapter...and when that happens, I know it's not going away. Has to be written.
> 
> This is going to be racier than the usual run of my work. Not too explicit to start, but will probably go there! 
> 
> Happy birthday to SylvanHeather. ;) Many thanks to Pir8grl.

It’s not that Sara isn’t glad that Rip, Mick, Gideon, and that mysterious Mary person have figured out the Time Masters’ scheme.

She was. And she was even more glad that they had a safe place to stay while they tried to figure out how to work around this whole “Oculus” thing. The Refuge had a real kitchen, lovely grounds, and bigger beds than the Waverider. It’s a little heavy on kids, but Sara likes kids well enough…even if she’s thoroughly unnerved by the presence of her younger self. Still, it’s easy enough to avoid her.

No, the Refuge is nice enough. But that didn’t mean that she isn’t getting increasingly bored as time (such as it is, here) drags on. They don’t dare leave yet, but they’re in a holding pattern

Sara trains with Kendra and anyone else she can convince. She’s never been an avid reader, but she raids the Refuge’s library. She watches movies, cleans and maintains her gear, and even peruses the Waverider’s historical records.

Eventually, though, it’s just not enough. She needs…distraction.

And she’s finally decided she knows what she’d like that distraction to be.

Lindsay had opened up a part of Sara’s heart that she’d figured had died before the Pit. Her next stint with the League had helped her manage the blood lust. Maybe, she’d finally decided, she could trust herself enough with a lover.

Well, maybe not a lover. A…playmate. The thought makes her smile as she walks along the Waverider’s corridors, passing a well-worn deck of cards from one hand to the other. There are probably better terms, but it will do.

It’s not like she can’t, well, go it alone. But Sara’s always enjoyed sex, and there’s something about letting someone else in like that that she thinks she’s finally ready for. Hours in bed exploring physical reactions with someone she likes could go a long way toward filling some empty days.

There’s really only one option she’s considered.

Kendra and Ray are a thing, and Sara’s pretty sure neither is the type to entertain, well, third parties. Jax and Stein…too much the “little brother” and the “cranky grandpa” there, on either side. Rip’s too uptight, and Sara’s pretty sure he’d be faithful to his wife while he still hopes to save her.

Mick’s fun. But he’s not really Sara’s type. She likes…finesse.

But…Leonard.

He’s perfect. _Very_ attractive to her taste, unfazed by the fact that she’s bi (she’s not quite sure just how he identifies, though there’s _no_ way he’s straight—but simply by the way he watches her ass, she’s pretty sure he’s interested in her as an individual, at least). Smart and creative and sexy.

And they’re already friends. Sara’s not sure, as a matter of fact, how she’d have gotten through as much of this mission—and the associated layover here--as she has without him. They play cards, they watch movies, they find ways to drive the others nuts, and they…they talk. About lots of things, actually, things Sara hasn’t ever talked about with others. Len, she finds, _gets_ it. The League, the things you do to survive, siblings and loss and honor…

Yes, he’s just perfect. Now, he just needs to agree.

His door’s closed, but they’ve long since made their quarters open to each other in most cases. Sara pauses only a moment for the door to slide open, then pauses a step or so inside, holding up the cards.

“Gin?” she inquires a bit playfully.

Leonard’s sitting at his desk, doing some sort of maintenance to his cold gun…well, she’s teased him that he cares about it more than he does most people, and he hadn’t argued. His eyes flick up at her words, and Sara finds herself very thoroughly inspected by that icy-blue gaze. Maybe it’s because of the thoughts she’s been having lately, thoughts she plans to let him in on tonight, but it only takes that intent gaze to wake a warmth in her that wants to throw the cards to the ground and…

But she doesn’t. And after a moment, he nods.

“Sure,” he says in that damned drawl, pulling the gun’s case over across the surface and putting the weapon away. “Why not?” A pause. “Have dinner over at the house?”

“Yeah.” She’d noticed he wasn’t there. “You hungry? Want to grab something first?” _You could grab me…_

“Nah. Ate earlier.” Len studies her in a way that makes Sara think he’s noticed some of her distraction. “OK. Just drinks, then.”

“Sounds good.”

It’s not so much longer before they’re settled in, cards in hand, drinks nearby. They play in relative silence at first, with just murmured exchanges about where the others are and confirmation that there’s nothing particularly new going on. Leonard’s the only one who still sleeps at the Waverider every night, though Sara does most of the time and the others tend to alternate. She’s not sure why…probably just that Leonard likes his space. She can’t blame him for that.

She studies the way he leans back against the wall, all boneless grace and lazy sprawl, long fingers wrapped around his cards--and suddenly it’s difficult to concentrate, to think of anything else but the possibilities inherent in those clever hands and that lean-muscled body…

He wins the first hand. And the second. And then a third, all by sizable margins. And then, before Sara can do more than sigh and start to gather the cards, Len sweeps them all up and drops them by the side of the bed.

Then he turns the full force of that gaze on her again. Sara shivers despite herself.

_Damn it._

“All right,” Len says, eyes narrowing. “What’s up, Lance?”

Sara tries to give him an innocent smile. “Why would you think something’s up?” she asks, leaning back against the wall opposite him.

Leonard rolls his eyes at her and shrugs. Sara tries not to watch how the movement makes the muscles in his arms move, even under his black shirt.

“Well,” he drawls. “I mean, I _usually_ beat you at cards…”

“Yeah, because you cheat.”

“…but you’re more distracted than usual. What’s going on?”

_Why, yes, Sara. What _is_ going on?_

Well, she was going to…proposition, call it what it is…him tonight, after all. No time like the present. But it’d seemed easier to pitch such an idea after they’d spent hours doing what they usually did, bantering and drinking and flirting, and suddenly Sara feels far too sober.

“I was wondering,” she starts, only to let her voice trail off.

Len lifts an eyebrow. “Wondering.” He tilts his head, watching her. “Wondering what?”

Sara sighs. “OK,” she says, then meets his eyes very directly. “I could stand to blow off some steam. And not in the training room…well, not in training, anyway. Wondered if you feel the same.” She lifts an eyebrow back, smiling. “If you know what I mean.”

For a long moment, Leonard just looks back at her, his face carefully still. Then there’s a flicker in those gorgeous eyes and he shifts just a little.

“You’re talking about sex,” he says bluntly, holding her gaze.

Sara starts to respond, then hesitates, suddenly uncertain.

“I’m sorry,” she says, looking away. “I thought you…I sort of thought you were bi, too.”

But Len nods in response. “I generally say pan,” he allows, then pauses. “You’re proposing just…sex.”

Sara studies him. “I…well. Yes?” She tries a slightly sly smile. “I know, you don’t want any stupid feelings getting involved, but I figured…you’re probably just as wired as I am…”

His eyes flicker again. Is that…disappointment?

It can’t be. Why? Sure, he’d made that crack about feelings back when they were in ####, but…he’s Leonard “Captain Cold” Snart. He’d no more admit to…to emotions softer than, say, mild affection for any of his teammates. All right, perhaps a bit more for Mick and—she thinks--Sara, but…

Whatever it is, it passes. And Sara’s pleased more than perhaps she cares to admit to see the returning sly smile that crosses Len’s face, the way his eyelids lower, just a little, and the gleam in those eyes.

“Well,” he drawls again, crossing one ankle over another. “We’d have to…say, set some ground rules…”

There’s that bantering, sexy tone she loves so much. Sara smirks back, leaning back herself and watching him.

“Rules, hmm?” she retorts. “Gonna get all kinky on me, Snart?”

“Depends.” His voice drops a good fraction of an octave, and he nudges her hip with the toe of one boot. “Do you _want_ me to?”

Sara shivers again. It’s a good shiver. “Maybe…” she hedges playfully, nudging him back. “What kind of rules are we talking about?”

Leonard looks at her evenly, that smirk lingering around his mouth. Oh. His mouth. She likes that mouth. It’s so very…mobile.

The smirk grows a little, as if he knows what she’s thinking. (Well, she’s sort of staring. Maybe he does.)

“Penetration,” he says succinctly, still in that low tone, drawing out the words and all its possibilities. Neither of them has moved any closer to the other, and somehow that just makes this all even more arousing.

Sara’s mouth is dry. She licks her lips, grinning as she sees Leonard track the motion and shift a little. He’s not as unaffected as he’s acting, the jerk. “Oh?” she asks in her own deliberate drawl. “What about it?”

Yes, he’s affected enough to need to drag in a breath there—though he bounces back quickly enough. “Yes? No? Lots of ways to…get someone off.” He tilts his head back, studying her from under his lashes. “Lots of…very creative…ways.”

_Fuck_. Sara doesn’t care how it makes him smirk. She closes her eyes a moment, telling her libido to calm the heck down before he accomplishes the goal here with simply the sound of voice saying those words.

“That’s true,” she allows. “But…I’ve had Gideon’s oh-so-handy shots, and I’m clean. It’s an option.” _Admit it, Lance_. “One I’d…rather like, I think.”

Leonard continues to study her. “Would you now?” he says finally, voice low. “Well. Same here. Perhaps we could…work our way up to it.”

Sara knows a moment of regret. “As opposed to…”

Another slow and sexy smile…and then he finally moves, making her jump a little. Not toward her, sadly, but getting carefully to his feet. Is he moving a little…stiffly, in a very specific way, Sara wonders? Oh, she thinks he is.

She sits up herself, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed and watching as Len crosses the room and checks the settings by the door, apparently unwilling to ask Gideon to change anything remotely, or even lower the lights, which he does. Then he turns toward Sara again and pauses before crossing back again to stand a few feet in front of her.

“That’s not all, though,” he says quietly, eyes meeting hers. “Far as rules.”

Sara, distracted enough by her own imagination—and the pulse pounding between her legs--to have completely lost track of the conversation, stares at him. “Oh?” she manages. “What else?”

An unexpectedly charming grin tugs at Len’s mouth. He leans forward enough to place a hand on either side of her, looking up through his lashes, again.

“Kissing,” he purrs unexpectedly, watching her.

Sara watches his mouth. Again. “Oh?” she manages. “What about it?”

“Yes? No?” Those blue eyes are very dark and very intent. “It’s very…personal…in its own way. Intimate.”

Given that they’ve been talking very openly about getting each other off, that seems a bit…not quite right. Sara grins at him, though, resisting the urge to reach for him, to pull him closer.

“Oh, yeah, so you’ve watched ‘Pretty Woman,’” she teases. “Sure. It is. But…well…”

Leonard waits. Sara glares at him…and then gives in.

“Yes, OK,” she says with a sigh, letting her eyes drift to his lips again. “I want you to kiss me, all right? It’s been a long time, and I…”

She never manages to finish the thought. Because Len steps forward a bit more, snakes one hand behind her head and settles the other at her hip, and then ducks his head and kisses her soundly.

_Fuck_.

Sara gasps a little in surprise, and he immediately takes advantage of that, tongue sweeping assuredly into her mouth, tasting and plundering everything. God _damn_, he’s a good kisser. Sara’s pulse pounds a little deeper, and she reaches for him in return, tangling her hands in his shirt, pulling him closer, til he’s standing between her legs, and…

Leonard, being Leonard, takes immediate advantage of that, too. He transfers one hand from her hip to the small of her back, pulling her farther toward him, too, until she can feel the very significant bulge in his jeans right against her, right where she wishes fervently there wasn’t clothing between them--though she’s also pretty sure they could finish this if he keeps up those movements, clothing or no.

But he has other ideas. After a few very intense moments, Leonard lowers her down to the bed, climbing up beside her in one smooth motion as Sara catches her breath.

“Work our way up, hmm? OK,” he murmurs, propping himself up on an elbow, looking down at her with darkened eyes. “Maybe I’d rather work my way _down_.”

Sara lets out a breathless laugh, reaching out, drawing her fingertips down his jaw, unable to resist imagining that stubble scraping gently along the inside of her thighs. “Well…if that’s what you want,” she says, knowing she sounds fairly unsteady. “But what about you? This is supposed to be an…exchange…of favors…”

Her words break off as Len leans over and starts kissing her again, mouth moving quickly south, past her jaw to her neck.

“Oh, I’ll collect,” he murmurs against the soft skin there, fingers drifting down to the snap of her pants. “No worries. All in good time.”

Those clever fingers pause at the snap, then drift down just a little, finding a certain point right through the fabric, and Sara bucks her hips involuntarily, cursing at him. “Fuck! Len…”

“What?” is the innocent, if muttered, response, as the touch becomes a little more intense and his mouth moves a little farther down too, to her collarbone.

Sara’s hands scrabble against his shoulders, unable to stay still. “You’re…torturing…me…”

That gets a chuckle, and he glances up at her while shifting a little downward again. “Oh, Sara,” Len says quietly, eyes looking intently into hers. “You haven’t seen _anything_ yet.”

And then he ducks his head again…and that wonderful, mobile mouth closes around a nipple, right through the light fabric of her shirt and bra, intense and pulling, just the barest scrape of teeth—even as his fingers resume their intent touch, and…

That’s it. Sara swears again, head falling back as the orgasm hits her, somewhat unexpected so soon, but entirely mind-blowing nonetheless. She closes her eyes, hearing Leonard chuckle again, and feels him arrange himself by her side.

“Fuck,” she says, after a moment, letting the aftershocks fade. “You.”

That gets another rough laugh. “You wanted me to get you off, right?” he drawls as she opens an eye. “You telling me you didn’t enjoy that?” His fingers graze over the crotch of her pants again, making her shiver. “This tells me rather otherwise…”

“Yeah, but…fuck, Len, I’m still clothed!” Sara laughs helplessly at his smug expression. “What’s going to happen when I’m not?”

Len smirks at her, leaning on a propped-up arm. “Are you complaining?”

“No!”

That makes him laugh again. Sara’s never heard him laugh like this before, really, nothing but a self-deprecating or mocking chuckle.

She likes it.

Maybe that’s why she rolls onto her side suddenly and reaches out, grabbing the front of Len’s shirt and towing him down to her, capturing his lips with a kiss that manages to be unexpectedly sweet.

“Thank you,” she murmurs against his lips as surprised blue eyes blink down at her. “I needed that.”

Somewhat to her surprise, she doesn’t get snark in return. She gets a smile that, again, manages to be unexpectedly sweet.

“Welcome,” he murmurs in return. “Now…about payback…”


	2. Through About a Million

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The goal for this, by the way, is something sorta smutty in each chapter. Wish me luck.
> 
> Thanks to Pir8grl for the beta.

Distinctly to Sara’s surprise, Len demurs as far as payback goes that night. They play a few more hands of cards…Sara even wins one…before she heads back to her own room, feeling relaxed in a certain specific sort of way for the first time in quite a while.

Still, she wishes he’d let her, well, take care of him, too. It’s certainly not that he’s not attracted to her—that’s even more obvious than it’s ever been before after this encounter. So…why?

Sara doesn’t know, and Leonard doesn’t seem inclined to say anything about it. So she leaves things as they are, mentally promising herself to remedy the imbalance soon, and has one of the best nights of sleep she’s had in days.

Which is, apparently, quite obvious when she strolls into the Refuge’s dining room the next morning.

Kendra, who’s making coffee (of course) gives her a double take of sorts as Sara gets a coffee mug out of the cabinet, whistling under her breath.

“Well, aren’t you chipper this morning,” the other woman says with amusement. “Sleep well?”

Sara, who after years in the League can wake up thoroughly and quickly under almost any circumstances, still hates doing so in the morning, and all her fellow Legends know that. She gives Kendra a grin as she waits for the coffee to brew, nodding to Jax, who’s shoveling what seems to be scrambled eggs into his mouth like they’re about to run away.

“I did,” she allows, figuring that much is certainly admissible—and wishing she and Leonard had also reached ground rules on how they’re handling their oh-so-curious teammates. “You?”

“Well enough.” Kendra sighs as she studies the coffeemaker. “Ray was with Rip, Stein, and Mick in the lab really late last night. I’m hoping that they had a breakthrough…but he was still sleeping when I left.”

Sara allows herself yet another moment of gratitude that Rip and Mick had gotten past their earlier antagonism to work together to use the latter’s long-time experience with the Time Masters. “Here’s hoping,” she says fervently.

“I kinda hate to dash this, but Gray didn’t seem overly happy or unhappy last night,” Jax points out from behind them, getting to his feet with his plate. “Couldn’t really feel anything through our link, and I probably would have if there’d been a great breakthrough.” He grinned. “Gray gets really smug. You can’t miss it.”

Sara laughs, and Kendra shakes her head, smiling.

“Well, at this point,” she says with another sigh, reaching out for the coffee carafe, “I’d take a small breakthrough. Just…something.”

Sara holds out her mug, and Kendra pours for her, too, before pushing over a small pitcher of cream. She nods her thanks, adds a dollop, stirs and takes a deep drink, sighing with pleasure.

Mary Xavier had been bemused and not entirely approving of her foster son’s team’s taste for coffee over tea, but she’d still helpfully provided both a good coffeemaker and a supply of excellent-quality beans. Sara doesn’t know where’d they’d come from, and she doesn’t want to know, but she really does appreciate it.

“Has anyone seen…” she starts to ask.

With perfect timing, though, there’s a step nearby at that moment. Kendra, Sara, and Jax all glance over to see Leonard pause in the doorway, studying them, before sauntering in.

“Jax,” he drawls in acknowledgement. “Ladies.”

Oh, this isn’t good. Sara can feel her face heat at the mere sound of his voice, and she quickly takes a big gulp of coffee to conceal it. For his part, Len’s gaze flicks over her with barely a pause as he heads over to claim his own mug and coffee.

“Snart,” Kendra responds with amusement. “Good morning. Still staying on the Waverider?” She takes a drink of her coffee, apparently unaware of Sara’s consternation. “The beds are really a lot more comfortable here.”

“She’s right,” Jax butts in, leaning against the counter. “And they’re bigger.” He frowns. “I do feel kinda bad for Gideon, though. She’s stuck on the ship and she doesn’t even have any company.”

Gideon, Sara realizes, had probably gotten an earful last night. She studies her coffee carefully as Leonard pours his and lashes his usual obscene amount of sugar into it, leaning against the counter next to her to take a sip and shrug at Kendra and Jax’s comments.

“This place still feels sorta…creepy,” he says offhandedly. “I’ll stick with the ship, thanks.”

Jax claps him on the back, something that Sara notes with bemusement, especially since Leonard doesn’t move aside like he so often does with unwanted contact—which is to say, almost all contact. “Your loss, Snart,” the younger man says cheerfully. “I’m heading over to the Waverider now. Thought I’d talk to Gideon about some upgrades, since we seem to have the time for them.”

“Good luck!” Kendra calls after him, then shakes her head, looking back at Sara and Leonard.

“I hope another bathroom or three are at the top of that list,” she says with a sigh. “Now, that’s the single best thing about staying at the Refuge.”

“And real coffee,” Sara points out, getting a smile in return.

“Definitely real coffee,” Kendra allows, rinsing out her mug. “I’m going to go check on Ray. Train later?”

Sara nods, and the other woman takes herself out, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen.

After a moment, Sara feels enough in control to allow herself to glance over at Leonard, who’s watching her steadily…and somehow without any sign of uncertainty on his part.

“You doing OK?” he asks offhandedly, eyes studying her over the rim of his mug. “Sleep all right?”

“Slept great,” Sara avers, studying him return. “You?”

But that merely gets a shrug. “Well enough,” Len says, looking back down into his coffee. And Sara, watching, can indeed see some of the fault lines of a lousy night’s rest in him: lines around his eyes, a subtle tension around his mouth, something off about his voice.

She spares only a second to wonder that she’s come to know him so well, then takes another plunge.

“Maybe I can help with that?” she says, offhandedly, turning away a little to rinse out her own mug. “I mean…later?”

There’s a moment’s silence. Sara looks back, suddenly concerned that she’s overstepped, for all the intimacy of the night before.

Len’s face is…now this, she can’t quite read. Conflicted, maybe. Not at all what she’d been going for. Sara swears quietly, putting her mug down with a thud, suddenly convinced she’s fucked it all up.

The curse seems to recall Len to himself a little, though, because he blinks and refocuses on that, lifting an eyebrow. “What?”

His tone is dry and unbothered, but Sara still can’t help her concern.

“I don’t want to…I don’t want to screw this up,” she tells him quietly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

But Len interrupts her. “_This_?”

He reaches out and puts his mug down next to hers, and his voice is now oddly intent. Sara blinks at him.

“I mean…we’re friends, right?” she manages, meeting those focused blue eyes. “I hope? I don’t want to mess that up with…other things, but I…”

But Len’s expression changes again, moving through a few things Sara can’t, to her great annoyance, quite read. But it seems to settle on resolution, and he reaches out to catch her hand where it rests on the counter, giving her fingers a quick and uncharacteristic squeeze.

“Yes,” he says firmly, holding her gaze. “We are. Friends.” A smirk tugs at his mouth, and Sara watches, desire stirring again as his eyes grow darker.

“Sara Lance,” Len tells her, voice deepening into that oh-so-sexy drawl. “I would _love_ it if you’d help me sleep tonight. By whatever means necessary.”

God, he can almost do it to her with that voice alone. Sara swallows, smirking back at him. “I’d be pleased,” she tells him, layering innuendo into her own tone, “to help. By any means necessary.”

The smirk deepens. “Oh, I just bet you will be,” he drawls back, then pulls away, so smoothly that Sara can’t even protest. “Til later.”

He strolls away, back out the door, and Sara watches him go. She has what she wants, she realizes: a reciprocal date for tonight, and a continuation of…whatever this is.

So why does she feel like she’s completely missed something?

* * *

The room Mick has claimed for his own at the Refuge is locked, which means he’s probably pulled another late night with the brain trust and is still sleeping. Leonard shrugs, turning away.

He still finds it surprising that his partner wants to stay here, given how absolutely (and understandably) unnerved Mick is by the presence of his own younger self at the Refuge—but then, Mick’s a bit of a hedonist, and larger, more comfortable beds are a draw.

Of course, the thought of beds leads Leonard back to thinking of Sara. Crap. He shrugs his shoulders a bit uncomfortably as he strolls down the hallway toward the library. It’s probably just as well that he doesn’t encounter Mick now. They know each other too well, and Len’s still unsettled enough by Sara’s…proposition, and events afterward…that that unease is probably showing up far too clearly.

Not because he doesn’t want it. He knows consent just as important to her as it is to him.

But because he does.

He’s _not_ thinking about this right now. Len shakes his head irritably as he reaches the library, ducking into the welcome presence of books and silence and letting out a sigh.

At least, until wandering through the shelves, he comes across Rip Hunter, sprawled in an armchair in one nook and sound asleep, head at an awkward angle and very old-looking book nearly falling off his lap.

Len hesitates, then sighs again. He’s not totally without compassion, although it’d be easier to be, and the captain’s been running himself ragged since they’d realized just how much the Time Masters had orchestrated this whole thing. Reaching out with one foot, he pokes the other man in the leg none too gently—well, he does have an image to maintain.

Rip mumbles something in his sleep and turns his head, shifting. The old book tilts toward the ground, and Len stoops to catch it, rolling his eyes. He pokes Rip again, though this time it’s just this side of a kick.

This time, the former Time Master wakes with a start, blinking and putting his hands out to either side of himself like he’s not sure of his surroundings. He blinks at Leonard, who smirks at him, and looks around, sighing and relaxing visibly as he realizes where he is.

“Ugh,” Rip mutters, passing a hand over his eyes. “It’s certainly not the first time I’ve fallen asleep in here, but I definitely woke up less…creaky…when I was 14.”

Given that that’s something Len totally gets—though he’ll be damned if he admits it to Rip—he doesn’t take the opportunity to rag on the other man. Instead, he just takes a step back, glancing down at the book he’d rescued, curious despite himself. It doesn’t look like a conventionally published book, with a worn leather cover and hand stitching, and that’s more than enough to pique his interest.

“Oh!” Rip seems to realize that Leonard has the book. He levers himself to his feet, then reaches out a hand to reclaim it.

But Len’s already taken a step backward again, opening the volume and paging through it curiously. It’s a mix of handwritten and more conventionally printed pages, and it seems to be…

But Rip reclaims it, then, a bit firmly, and Leonard lets him, frowning. He lifts an eyebrow at the other man, a clear question, and the former Time Master doesn’t pretend to misunderstand.

“Yes,” he admits, looking down at it. “A Time Master journal. I’ve been looking for clues—without much luck, admittedly. It’s only the older ones that are kept here, in the vaults…but as it seems this Oculus has been running for a very long time…”

Leonard’s only half-listening at this point. “Journals, eh?” he muses, glancing around. He hadn’t seen anything like this book in the library so far. “Kept here?”

Rip gives him a far-too-knowing smile. “Oh, don’t get too interested,” he says wryly, tucking the journal under his arm. “Mary keeps them under lock and key. Even I had to go through her to get this one.” He sighs. “And now I need to go return it to her, as it gave me no help at all.”

He shakes his head, then nods to Leonard and heads off. Len watches him go, bemused.

Ol’ Rip must be distracted indeed if he didn’t think twice about telling a master thief that something interesting’s “under lock and key.”

* * *

The day passes. It’s not so different from Sara’s usual routine, these days, at least in many ways. She trains with Kendra; she hangs out a little with Jax, who’s become so much the little brother she’d never had. She explores the Refuge a little more. She eats dinner with Mick, since neither of them has any idea where Leonard has gotten to, and learns a little more about some of what he’s been trying to help the others chase down about this Oculus thing.

And why, for all that this layover has seemed to take forever, time is actually of the essence.

“Longer it goes, more about the Vanishing Point and the Time Bastards I’m gonna forget,” he tells her seriously (for Mick), looking down at the mammoth sandwich he’d made himself. “I don’t know what I might know that might help. So I gotta sort through it all.” He shakes his head. “And…there’s a lot.”

Sara, who gets it better than most, talks it out with him a while, but eventually he declares that his brain hurts and heads back to the Waverider to grab a beer, as Mary Xavier doesn’t allow it in the house’s kitchen. Sara shakes her head, then heads out to go for a walk around the grounds before the sun sets, enjoying the fresh air while they’re here.

Leonard’s not in his room when she returns. Sara lingers a moment, then heads back to her own room, where she considers the contents of her closet, uncertain. She’d purposefully tried to underscore the casualness of her proposal yesterday by wearing her ordinary clothes, nothing fancy or date-worthy, not even lingerie. Because it’s not like they’re dating or anything.

Not really.

Well. Now that they’ve established that, surely she can at least change into something sexy under her everyday clothes. Right?

So she does. Just in case. Then she claims the deck of cards, gives herself a once-over in the mirror, and heads back to Len’s room.

And he’s still not there.

Sara stares at the door for a long moment, wishing she could just let herself in. (Oh, the possibilities of waiting for him in his bed…) But that would require asking Gideon, who’d probably say no anyway, and…

She goes back to her room. And spends an idle half-hour or so throwing knives into the wall—well, a target on the wall—and pretending she’s neither disappointed nor irritated. They hadn’t set a time, after all. And he’s perfectly allowed to change his mind. But…

Her door, obedient to standing commands to let Len in unless she specifically says not to, slides open.

Leonard stops in his tracks, taking in the sight of Sara with a throwing knife in her hand and determination on her face. It’d be funny, actually, if not for the fact that he’s looking distinctly rumpled, and not in a good way, smudges of dust on his face and odd marks on his habitual black sweater. He must have come right here from...something.

Sara flips the knife around in her hand, frowning, and sits it down on her desk. Len tracks the motion, glances at the target on the wall, and then sort of shakes himself, meeting her eyes.

“Sorry,” he says in a low tone. “I sort of...got lost.”

Sara blinks at him. “In the _Refuge_?” She shakes her head and waves a hand before he can respond. “It doesn’t matter. Are you OK?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Len glances down at his dirty sweater, sighs, and then grabs the edge, starting to lift it. Sara drags her eyes away from the strip of skin visible along his waistband as he pulls it off over his head. "Just...exploring. Got turned around in the sub-basement and had to find a new way out.”

“I didn’t even know there _was _a basement.” She takes the sweater after watching him cast about for where to put it, though she just drops it on a chair unceremoniously. That’s something that Len would usually roll his eyes at, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. However, his gaze does flick up at her, and to her relief, his usual smirk appears again.

“I promise, I find anything too interesting, I’ll let you know,” he informs her, taking a step closer. A pause, and then he changes the subject. “When I got back here, Gideon promptly informed me that you’d checked my room a few times. She sounded...indignant. On your behalf.”

That’s both kind of sweet and thoroughly embarrassing. Sara closes her eyes a moment and lets out a silent sigh, then shakes her head.

“Tattletale,” she mutters.

Len’s smirk grows. “Me or Gideon?” he asks slyly. “You think it’s a bad thing that I’d know that you wanted...wanted to see me?”

Sara reaches up and puts a hand along his jaw, brushing a streak of...soot?...off his left cheekbone with her thumb. She doesn’t think it’s accidental that his eyes darken a little as she does so, and he turns into the touch just a little. Or does he? Sex is one thing, but...tenderness?

“Something like that,” she informs him, putting the question away for now. “You still look really tired.”

“Way to flatter a guy, Lance.” But the smile is wry, and he doesn’t deny it. Or move away.

Sara smiles back. And keeps smiling as, very slowly, she goes up on her toes and leans forward. And he leans forward too.

The kiss is a relatively brief touch of lips, but it manages to be rather hot anyway. Certainly Sara thinks so as she takes in a quick breath afterward, and Leonard seems a little dazed as well.

“You want to play a game of cards and then head off to bed, I get it,” she tells him softly. “But previous offers stand.”

For a moment, Sara thinks he’s going to take the first option. Why there’s the doubt, she’s not sure, given that he doesn’t seem _that_ tired and he certainly seems attracted. But then…

“All right,” Len says, gaze holding hers, smile lingering about his mouth again. “Do your…worst.”

Sara lifts an eyebrow and promptly drops her hands to his waist, hooking her fingers through the belt loops of those tight black jeans and turning them both around. She marches him back toward the bed, getting a distinct chuckle in return…at least until his ass hits the edge and Sara presses right against him, letting go of his waist to grab his head and pull him down for another kiss.

This one isn’t brief.

It is hot, though. Hot and messy and after a few minutes, just a little painful at times, with teeth getting involved in tiny little nips and bites. Apparently that’s something they both find a turn-on, and Sara makes note even as she tries not to let things get away from her this time.

And when she can feel undeniably the evidence of how turned on Len is against her stomach, Sara lets her hand fall back down to his pants, making short work of both the snap there and the zipper.

And then, as he groans, she slips her hands down into those jeans just far enough to work them over him and down, then pulls away…and goes to her knees in front of him.

Looking up at him as he’s leaning back against her bed, hands braced against the side and head thrown rather dramatically (well, it _is_ Leonard) back, he’s one of the best things Sara thinks she’s ever seen in her life.

At least, until he moves and looks down at her, eyes dark blue and expression so full of need that Sara catches her breath.

“Sara,” he breathes, but it sounds more like a prayer than anything else.

Sara licks her lips very deliberately, wishing she’d disrobed a bit more before starting this but not truly unhappy with the way it’s going.

“Len,” she says quietly back, resting a gentle hand on his briefs. “May I?”

“_Please_.”

She doesn’t waste time in studying the anatomy at hand (except to be very definitely _not_ disappointed), just gets rid of the material in the way and wraps her mouth around that very impressive erection.

The sounds Len makes are…incoherent. Sara, despite her concentration on other things, feels one hand land in her hair—and then move again before his fingers can do more than tighten briefly on the strands. She’d like to tell him that it’s OK, that she certainly wouldn’t mind a bit of hair-pulling as long as things don’t get out of hand, but her mouth’s sort of busy at the moment, as are both hands. And he’s the most wonderful combination of silken skin and steel under her touch, and those noises he’s uttering are one of the most arousing things ever, and…

He doesn’t last long at all, but Sara’s OK with that. For now.

It’s enough to get back to her feet and smirk at the way usually so-calm-and-collected Leonard just about sags against the bed, eyes closed and breathing ragged. When he finally opens his eyes, she’s watching, grinning at that expression, enjoying the phenomenon of seeing him looking something less than chill—and with his jeans still down around his knees.

“Sorry,” he manages finally, shifting and somehow managing to make pulling up and readjusting his pants look less than utterly awkward. “It’s…been a while.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Sara, leaning against the bed, grins at him. She’s still a bit wired too, but she’d rather let him compose himself without any pressure. She can always take care of herself later. “So, little more relaxed?”

The look Len gives her then, in response to that faux innocent question, is so absolutely filthy that it sends a shiver down her spine.

“A bit, yes,” he drawls, turning toward her. “But…what about you?”

“Mmm, what about me?” Sara watches him through her eyelashes. “I’m good.”

“I’ll say.” Leonard moves nearer. “But…”

To her great sadness, Sara never finds out what he was about to propose. Instead, they both jump as an alarm echoes about the ship, and though it’s only for a few seconds, the damage has been done. Literally.

“Ms. Lance, Mr. Snart, I am truly, truly sorry to interrupt,” Sara hears Gideon say apologetically, “but Mr. Rory has somehow set the galley on fire.” She continues as Leonard growls and Sara sighs. “I have it out already, but he, well, rather ran afoul of the fire extinguishing foam and he _is_ not happy.”

As if on cue, they both hear a bellow from far down the hallway, filled with annoyance and ire, and Leonard shakes his head, straightening from his slouch.

But Sara beats him to it.

“Let me get it,” she tells him, touching his sleeve. “You go get some rest. All right?” When he hesitates, she gives him a _look_. “Seriously. I can handle Mick.”

“I know,” he responds quietly, then nods. Accepting the help, something Leonard almost never does.

But apparently accepting some things leads to accepting others.

As he turns toward the door, Sara kicks on a pair of sandals (the better not to slip on extinguishing foam), pulls a sweatshirt on over her T-shirt, and follows.

They pause again in the hallway. Sara turns toward the galley, but Leonard, to her slight surprise, reaches out to take her hand, drawing her attention back to him. His eyes are cautious, and his expression is still, but…

“Sara,” he says quietly. “Thank you.”

And yet again, for a moment, there’s something else there between them. Something more than sex, more than…

Sara takes a deep breath.

“You’re welcome,” she says, and then turns away to go rescue Mick.


	3. And I'd Leave 'Em Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, maybe not full smut, but...hot, I hope. ;) 
> 
> Thanks to Pir8grl for the beta!

Leonard would admit it—he’d slept better than he had in a long time after Sara’s, ah, remedy. Even though he wasn’t sure about the wisdom of the rest of this…agreement…that, at least, was most certainly true.

Of course, it probably hadn’t hurt that he had indeed gotten lost in what seemed to be a maze under the Refuge. His memory had eventually steered him true, or he might still be down there, wandering amidst miles of storage: trunks and suitcases, canned goods and gallons of water, a survivalist’s dream. It was probably good to know that the place was so prepared, though the idea of being stuck here that long made Leonard want to scream.

Although…if Sara was still here too…

He rips his thoughts away from that as he walks toward the Refuge, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the slight breeze. He’d seen no books in the basement, nor any sign of a vault. Which meant it must be elsewhere, but…

“Snart. Where the fuck you been hiding lately?”

Leonard’s head jerks up, and he stares at Mick, whose appeared at the steps up to the house. The bigger man folds his arms and frowns at him, and Len resists the urge to glance around for a place to…

No. Not hide. Leonard Snart does not _hide_. Perhaps…make a judicious retreat. Yes.

Mick gives him a seemingly puzzled look. Len can’t quite figure out why his oldest friend, the king of holding grudges, has come back from wanting to murder him (and all the other Legends, incidentally) so thoroughly in such a relatively small amount of time, but apparently the whole abandonment thing has been forgiven if not forgotten. Or maybe Mick figures the Time Masters had made Leonard do it.

If only.

Mick is still watching him. Leonard shrugs.

“Haven’t been hiding,” he drawls, folding his arms. “Just ain’t too keen on this weird place.”

His friend grunts.

“Get that,” he admits gruffly. “But you’ve still been MIA.”

Leonard shrugs at him. And doesn’t say anything.

He’s not sure what to say.

The other man eventually shakes his head. “Whatever,” he mutters, stalking off toward the ship. “Y’know where to find me.”

That’s true. He does. He always does. It’s sort of a sixth sense; has been ever since they were stupid teenagers in juvie.

And just how much of that had the Time Masters controlled?

None of them are clear, yet, on how this Oculus thing works. Can the Time Masters actually pull their strings, make them physically do things? That doesn’t quite seem to be the case. But the thought that they’d…sort of arranged for each of the team to be the sort of person they needed, to do what they wanted them to do…that’s stomach churning.

If the Time Masters are responsible for Lewis being…Lewis, Leonard’s going to kill them. All of them. For Lisa, if not himself.

Leonard’s turned it over in his mind so many times since they got here, to this safe haven, that he’s sick of thinking about it. But undeniably, the Time Bastards had wanted Mick to become Chronos.

For that, they needed Leonard to abandon him. To leave his best, one of his only, friends to starve in a remote area in the 1950s. To be the sort of asshat who did that sort of thing. But while they may have chosen him for that, he’s pretty sure they hadn’t made him that person. He’d done that all on his own.

Leonard stares at the spot where Mick had stood. Then he keeps walking, toward the house.

One of the things Rip and Mary Xavier had assured them of: the Time Masters couldn’t control emotions. So, what Leonard felt for Sara…it was safe. It was real.

So was, of course, what he felt for Mick—he supposes the best word he has for it is brotherhood? But the background there, the long history, the years of having each other’s backs…all of a sudden, he can’t trust it.

Had Mick only saved him, back in juvie, because the Time Masters wanted a master thief, years in the future? Had they known that Leonard, being who he was even at age 14, would strive to be that, to be better than Lewis?

Thinking like this…it’s a spiral and a trap, and he knows that. But he can’t quite keep himself from chewing over it. Again and again and…

“Snart!”

It’s Jax, this time, and the kid actually sounds happy to see him. Leonard tosses him a smile of sorts as he ambles toward the kitchen, as the younger man joins him. He likes the kid. And that’s new enough, as is their acquaintance in general, that he feels safe with that too.

“Jax,” he drawls in returns. “How you holdin’ up in this…” He glances around. “…pit stop?”

The younger half of Firestorm shrugs a little. “Not bad,” he says, sounding thoughtful. “I mean, I don’t want to be stuck here forever, but…at least there’s stuff to do.”

“Yeah?” Leonard pauses briefly in the doorway to the galley, a trifle disappointed to see that it’s empty. Still, there’s coffee, and it smells fresh. He continues, Jax following. “Whatcha been up to?”

Jax, while concocting and then devouring a truly impressive batch of eggs, tells him about how he’s been tinkering in the Refuge’s workshop, as well as teaching some of the young residents of the Refuge to play American football. (Something to which Mary and Rip have reacted with great dubiousness.) Leonard listens and ingests caffeine, and by the time they’re both done, he’s feeling a little more equitable about things. For the moment.

So, when Jax wanders off for the workshop, he goes too, and they exchange some electrical tips from the fields of automobile repair and thievery. It’s actually sort of fun, and Leonard’s always liked tinkering, and it’s not at all a bad way to pass some time.

After that—well, he’s decided not to try the sub-basement again, but he does pace out the basement, studying things intently for likely hidey holes. All that leads him to is an old wine cellar…bereft, sadly, of wine. The vault must be elsewhere. 

A visit to the library later (in which he also checks for any hidden spaces, with no luck), Leonard heads back downstairs, ducking outside to avoid the plethora of kids running about on their way to dinner. He strolls around the side of the building, lost in his own thoughts, trying to decide whether to go back to the Waverider or…

Sara’s training. In the open yard, taking advantage of all the space and freedom. Right out there in front of him, bo in her hands, moving like only she can, grace and power and all the beauty that’s so uniquely hers.

He’s not sure how long he stands there, watching, before she notices him, or before she decides to acknowledge noticing him. One of those intricate patterns she’s flying through ends up with her closer to him than before, bo pointed right at him, smiling in a way that makes it hugely obvious she’s been aware of him all along.

Leonard, grabbing for some of his chill, starts to slowly applaud.

“Nice,” he drawls, letting his eyes run up and down her in her training gear. “Very nice.”

Sara’s grin grows, and she looks him up and down too. “Glad you approve,” she says, spinning her bo and planting the end in the ground at her feet. “There’s something to be said for training in close quarters…but it’s good to be able to train out here, with all the freedom to move.”

Leonard, all of whose fighting experience is pretty much in cities, in those closer quarters, makes a thoughtful noise, studying both Sara and the pattern of her feet in the ground. “I can see that,” he says finally. “’Specially with…” He waves a hand at her bo. “…that stick. Figure I’d be as likely to knock anyone else out with it as my target.”

It’s something of an admission of weakness, and as such, not the sort of thing he ever acknowledges. But it’s true enough, and Sara’s so amazing at what she does that he feels the need to affirm that. For some reason.

It gets him a sparkling smile…and then she glances to the side. Leonard looks, too. Then he takes a step backward.

But Sara’s already over there, casually picking up another bo and smoothly tossing it toward Leonard, who snatches it out of the air reflexively. He gives it a dubious look, then glances back at Sara, whose smile has turned speculative and whose own weapon is now in a far more aggressive attitude.

“C’mon, Snart,” she says intently. “You’re a scrapper. It can’t hurt to learn a new kind of weapon.”

Leonard tilts his head, considering the bo. Then he regards Sara, who’s watching patiently.

Well. He said he was bored.

Sara smiles again as he moves closer. She models how to hold the weapon in a ready stance, then puts her own down long enough to go over to him and correct the position of his feet, hips, shoulders, arms, and hands. She takes her time about it, too, and isn’t shy about putting her hands on him though the touch stays mostly impersonal—and leaves Leonard clearing his throat anyway

Oh, he’s just fine with Sara doing that. But he’s not sure how he feels about other people possibly _seeing_ it.

But no curious or gleeful teammates come trotting out to ask them what’s going on—no snide comments from Mick, no giggles from Kendra, no eager questions from Raymond. And when she’s done, she picks up her bo again and faces him…a slight smirk crossing her face at the expression on his.

“I’m not gonna knock you on your ass, Len,” she says, tone a mix of reassuring and amused. “Just show you a simple pattern.”

Leonard’s pretty sure he still looks dubious, but he also nods, grasping for his own habitual smirk. And Sara slowly, deliberately swings her bo toward him, waiting as he gets his into position and meets the blow.

And she continues, slowly moving so he can match her movement and counter her blows. Then she moves a little faster, and a little faster yet as he gets used to it—and eventually starts to venture an attack or two himself, though Sara counters them easily.

He’s not sure how long it is before they stop, both sweating, both grinning, staffs crossed and faces maybe six inches apart.

“So,” Leonard drawls after a moment in which they stare into each other’s eyes. “How would this have gone if you weren’t pulling any punches? Going full out?”

Sara smirks at him. “Sure you wanna know?” she asks, her voice low and…really quite enticing.

Leonard leans forward a little. “Of course.”

The smirk grows. He has just enough time to see her muscles tighten…

And she knocks him right on his ass.

Leonard, breathing hard, stares up at her, trying to figure out precisely what just happened. Sara had moved so fast that he’d barely seen it, let alone been ready for it, and while he’d had the wind knocked out of him, she didn’t actually hurt him at all. She’s got his arms trapped against the ground, by way of the bo he’s still holding, and she’s landed, quite neatly, on top of him.

And as he catches his breath, the position they’re in registers even more. Sara _is_ straddling his hips, leaning forward to pin his bo and thus his arms. She’s flush against him in precisely the most suggestive manner, chest brushing against his, face even closer to his than it was before.

He’s trapped, in a way, physically. He should be frantic to get free, no matter how arousing the circumstances.

He’s not. He’s really, really not. She’s judged it perfectly, really. He’s “trapped” only because her bo is pinning the bo he’s still holding there; if he let go, he could move easily.

If he wanted to dislodge Sara, anyway.

He doesn’t want to. Even though they’re out here in the open, exposed, he _really_ doesn’t want to.

Instead, letting other regions speak far louder than his brain, Leonard hitches his hips up a little, right into her center, staring up right into Sara’s eyes as he does so. He’s rewarded by the sound of her breath hitching too, and her pupils dilating in a very alluring way as she shifts just a little more into him as well.

_Fuck_.

Having his hands stuck, sort of, should be panic inducing. Instead, it’s hot as hell. If Leonard were to try to analyze that, he might come up with any number of thoughts about how trust in a relationship…it’s not a relationship, right? Is it?…is sexy, but he’s never had that, not really, and it’d all be speculation.

So he tries not to think.

Especially about how, if there were just a few fewer layers between them right now, they’d be…

Sara well and truly grinds into him, then, breath leaving her in a gasp, a helpless sound that makes Leonard even harder, there beneath her, out there on the Refuge’s far-too-exposed lawn. He moves with her, then gives up on holding on to the bo, bringing both hands down to her hips in a grip that he hopes isn’t too tight, moving her along him, closing his eyes at the noise she makes again.

He’s in his habitual dark jeans, but Sara’s only in thin workout clothes, and he wonders just how close she is. And as much as he doesn’t want to break the haze of pleasure over both of them….

“Ship,” he manages, voice so rough that even he barely recognizes it. “Whose room?”

Sara gasps, catching her breath, but she appears to focus a little more. “Yours,” she says swiftly. “It’s neater.” And with that, she moves again, pulling away and managing to get to her feet in a relatively smooth motion, extending a hand to Len. He takes it, letting her pull him to his feet, smirking a little at _her_ smirk at, well, the very uncomfortable state of his anatomy.

“Can you run?” she purrs, still holding his hand.

Len raises an eyebrow at her. “Maybe…” He lets himself curl his fingers around hers. “Let’s…”

“Sara? Sara?”

Their eyes meet in disbelief. Kendra’s voice is coming from around the front of the main Refuge building, just out of the sight of where they’re standing, though she’s clearly coming closer. And who knows how many other Legends might be with her.

Sara squeezes her eyes shut, then opens them. “I told her I’d be out here if she wanted to train in the open space,” she whispers, frustration heavy in her voice. “Oh, _fuck_.”

Leonard squeezes her fingers and then drops them, not without a great deal of regret. “I’m going to…hrm…” He shifts a little, uncomfortably. “…beat a hasty retreat. See you later.”

“Oh, god, I hope so,” she whispers fervently, taking a step back and stooping to get a bottle of water from near her weapons.

Leonard’s already heading toward the rear of the building, planning to circle around and head to the ship. He glances back to see Sara dump the water over her head and smiles a little before turning back to his path.

He needs a cold shower himself. A _very_ cold shower.

* * *

“Was that Snart?”

Sara shakes the damp hair (fortunately still mostly back in a ponytail) out of her eyes and peers at Kendra, who’s watching Leonard with amusement as he makes his retreat. There’s no sign that her friend has any idea what they’d actually been doing, and she breathes a sigh of relief for that. Not that she’s embarrassed—they’re grown adults—but…

She’s just not ready for that.

“Yeah,” Sara says, managing nonchalance pretty well, she thinks, as she picks up the spare bo and tosses it toward Kendra. “I think he’s bored.”

“Aren’t we all.” The other woman catches it and snickers. “Can’t imagine that worked out well for him.”

Well, no, but not quite in the way she’s thinking. Sara smiles, going into a “ready” stance and waiting for Kendra to follow suit. “I think he…might want a rematch sometime soon.”

* * *

One icy shower later, Len’s somewhat less on edge, but still rather restless. He prowls around the ship, trying doors and rattling loose panels until Gideon gets irritated at him, then checks to see if Sara’s back. She’s not.

He heads for the galley to grab something to eat. Mick’s just leaving, and they acknowledge each other with a head tilt (Len) and a grunt (Mick), but don’t pause.

Stein’s in the galley too. He greets Leonard absently before returning to his bowl of soup…one that smells good enough that Len promptly requests the same thing from the replicator. And, then, after a brief hesitation, joins the other man.

Stein nods to him, smiling a little at his meal. “Ah, matzo ball soup,” he says with a fond sigh. “It’s the ultimate comfort soup, to me…and the longer we’re stuck here, the more I find I need it.”

That comment’s enough to make Len pause with a spoonful midair, but he lets the connotations go for now, preferring to chew them over a bit. “My mom used to make it,” he says off-handedly, an admission of his own. “Been years.”

Stein’s eyes sharpen at that, but he merely nods. “I gave Gideon my mother’s recipe,” he says with a confiding air. “I was going to make them myself, but…I’m truly not that good of a cook. The replicator does far better than I can!”

They eat in silence for a little while after that. By the time Stein’s done and rinsing his bowl, Len’s decided to address the elephant in the room and clears his throat as the older man turns to leave. “Chess?”

Stein visibly brightens. “Oh, yes, please!” he says with enthusiasm. “Here or…?”

“Here’s good.” Sara would have to pass the galley to get to either of their rooms. He’d already asked Gideon to tell him when she returned to the ship, but this works fine.

They have the board set up and are about 10 minutes into a game when Leonard allows himself to wander toward the subject.

“So,” he drawls, pausing while moving his bishop a few spaces. “Beating this problem not going so well for the brain trust?”

His adversary eyes him, then pointedly glances at the board, so Len dutifully completes the move. Stein studies it, then nods, considering his own next move.

“It’s not that, precisely,” he says a trifle absently (though that doesn’t fool Leonard at all). “We know that the captive supernova is powering this Oculus thing. We know the Time Masters are using it to tweak time as they see fit.” He nods and moves a pawn. “It’s figuring out the _extent_ of that. And also, just how the Vanishing Point itself and the Refuge are immune to its power.”

Leonard taps his fingers on the table. “Both places where they don’t want themselves…or their own younger selves…to be subject to this thing,” he says thoughtfully. “At least not while they’re here. Or there.”

“But the lower-level Time Masters who are out on missions? They’re fair game.” Stein shakes his head. “And, of course, it appears the leading council members never leave the Vanishing Point. Of course.”

“Clever.” Leonard considers before making another move. “This Druce did at least once. When he tried to set a trap for Rip, and Mick went with him.”

When Mick had nearly fried himself-as-Chronos. Something Mick himself had found amusing when they’d realized it, but Leonard still shudders at.

“True, true.” Stein studies him. “I’ll bet he had someone guarding the device quite closely at that point. I wonder…” His voice trails off, and then he shrugs again. “Anyway, we’ve been looking at identifying what keeps the Oculus influence from these sites and finding a way to spread it…or to attach it to a moving point. Like say…the Waverider.”

Leonard thinks about that, then dismisses it for the moment, tilting back toward the thoughts that led him to start this conversation to begin with. “You…don’t know, yet, how much influence that is? What…they can do?”

Stein’s gaze is compassionate…and far too understanding. “No. Not really,” he admits, picking the white knight up from the board and turning it around in his fingers. “They can’t get inside our heads, or affect our individual thoughts and feelings. But…”

Stein puts the chess piece back down and sighs again. “I…and I’m sure you agree with this 100 percent, Mr. Snart…really hate the notion that any part of who I am could have been engineered by those…those…” He apparently can’t find an epithet strong enough, and merely shakes his head. “Did they engineer Ronnie and me becoming Firestorm—engineer the particle accelerator blast itself?”

That would include the creation of Barry Allen as the Flash, something that had led to Leonard’s own Captain Cold persona. Len frowns, unduly disturbed by the notion, but the professor continues.

“Did they kill Ronnie because he wouldn’t have left on this mission?” he says, looking down at the knight. “Did they injure Jax so that he’d be more willing to become the new other half of Firestorm? I don’t know. And I don’t like that at all.”

For a long moment, the two men simply sit in silence. Then Leonard sighs.

“Yeah,” he admits. “Me neither.”

* * *

The rest of the day doesn’t go at all like Sara had hoped.

She and Kendra train for longer than usual, and that is somewhat enjoyable. It’s nice to be out in the open, and they try working out a few paired moves for future use, just for the fun of it.

But then, of course, Ray sees them, runs back to the ship, and gets his Atom suit, returning to eagerly suggest the three of them train together. And then, Mary comes outside with a few of her charges, even though it’s getting late, archly mentioning to Sara that “this lot” would do well with seeing “real fighters”…and perhaps getting a firsthand taste of how those fighters, well, fight.

There’s something in her tone that tells Sara that there’s a very pertinent and timely reason for this—maybe to be with youthful arrogance and bragging. And since she sees young Rip—and surreally, young Sara, Ray, and Mick toward the back—she decides they might as well put on a show.

Later, slogging back onto the Waverider after the adult Rip has read her and a far more sheepish Ray the riot act about interacting with their younger selves, Sara admits that might not have been a good idea for a number of reasons. The least of which is that she’s actually pretty damned tired, or at least more than she’d want to be for…well…what both she and Leonard had wanted to get up to earlier.

And so, Sara lets the door to his door slide open and steps inside, watching the figure sprawled on the bed look up from his book, and sighs.

“I,” she announces, “am exhausted. But I wanted to do you the courtesy of coming here and telling you that in person before I staggered back to my room and fell asleep.”

Leonard sits up, watching her. If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it—but then, he probably wouldn’t. Instead, he gives her a swift once-over and frowns a little, but in a concerned sort of way. “What happened?”

So, she tells him. About training, about pressing herself for the joy of it, about the young Time-Masters-and-Legends-to-be. About young Mick scoffing at her and Kendra and getting knocked (relatively gently) on his butt, about young Sara’s intent gaze and uncomfortable questioning. About young Ray’s starry-eyed, hero-type-worship and his older selves’ sad eyes as he gazed at the boy. About young Rip’s borderline-creepy examination of the Legends he’ll one day recruit.

After a few silent moments, Leonard chuckles a little. “Knock him on his butt, too?” he asks, smirking.

“Nah. He was a little smarter—or probably, just less stubborn—than young Mick.” Sara rolls her eyes. “He backed off. He was a little know-it-all, though.”

“So, nothing’s changed?” They share a smile, and then Sara yawns again.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, covering her mouth with a hand. “I’ll go now. See you tomorrow.”

Leonard watches as she yawns again. And then, he says quietly, “You wanna stay?”

Sara blinks at him. “You mean, and sleep?” she says, stifling another yawn. “ ‘Fraid I’m not up for much more.”

Len shakes his head. “Yes,” he drawls with amusement, “to sleep.” His lashes lower. “We’d get a jumpstart on tomorrow.”

Oh. Oh, now that _does_ sound good. Sara studies him, then nods.

“Gonna go get…changed,” she says, motioning toward the door. “And showered. And…I’ll be back.” Damnit, she sounds awkward.

Leonard’s smile grows. “Not going anywhere.”

“OK.” Sara takes another step. “OK…see you…soon then…”

And then it’s her turn to retreat.

* * *

What had he been thinking?

Leonard can’t remember the last time he’d actually woken up next to someone. Well, he can, but it’s not a great memory, not now, and he shoves it immediately out of his head. At any rate, there have only been two lovers over the course of his life who’ve had that distinction, and…

No. Sara isn’t Alexa. Isn’t Daniel. And…he likes the idea of her in his bed, or he’d never have given in to the impulse he’d had before, to invite her to stay. She’d seemed a little bothered by meeting her younger self again, by the girl’s questions, and it’d seemed…

Crap. It’d seemed like the right thing to do.

What is _happening_ to him?

Leonard stares at the closed door for probably far too long before he shakes his head and changes quickly into his usual sleeping attire. It’s more revealing than his usual garb—but then, really, most everything is. Lightweight sweatpants and T-shirt, and he even goes for the short-sleeved one. It’s not like, if things go as they’d wish, she’s not going to see more. Hell, she already has.

In one particular region, anyway.

When Sara returns, hair still slightly damp, wearing her own pair of sleep pants and a shirt that very obviously doesn’t have a bra under it, Leonard opens his mouth to say something clever.

And can’t think of anything.

Instead, he just jerks his chin toward the bed, and Sara approaches, hesitating, to look at him again.

“Um,” she asks carefully. “Big spoon? Little spoon?”

That actually startles a chuckle out of him. “Think big spoon would work better logistically,” he says with a shrug, then holds out a hand. “C’mon, Lance. I won’t bite.” Pause. “Unless you ask nicely.”

Sara rolls her eyes, but smiles, and for the next few minutes, they arrange themselves on the bed, Sara on her side, facing the wall, Leonard behind, arm carefully draped over her right hip.

It’s…nice. Sara takes a deep breath. Really nice. It’s been a long time for not only sex, but also this sort of intimacy, and Len is warm and solid behind her. It doesn’t hurt, either, that she knows if she has nightmares, he’ll understand that too.

She’s a little surprised that he’d asked her to stay. But…it’s…nice.

Sara closes her eyes with a sigh, relaxing against Leonard as he quietly asks Gideon to lower the lights.

“ ‘Night, Len,” she murmurs as she starts the breathing exercises that will get her quickly to sleep.

“ ‘Night, Sara,” she hears, barely. “Sleep well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to explore the team's thoughts about what the Time Masters had done to them with the Oculus, since they didn't get a chance in canon. So...I'm trying to do that!


	4. I Didn't Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a huge chapter, but smut right from the start here. You've been warned.
> 
> Many thanks to Pir8grl.

To Sara’s surprise, she wakes before Len does the next morning.

At least, she thinks so. His breathing is still deep and even, the arm around her still lax with sleep. It’s hard to tell the time, but Sara’s internal clock doesn’t think it’s that late, really. She rarely sleeps in.

But then, she rarely sleeps with someone else. That takes…an awful lot of trust.

For a long moment, she keeps her eyes closed, enjoying the warmth and the feeling of being held, however loosely. But there are other feelings, too, and…

The something very warm and solid poking her in the small of the back isn’t hurting _those_ feelings at all.

Sara smirks a bit, trying to decide how to play this. Len trusts her, too, or he never would have allowed her in his bed, slept next to her. (That raises even more _feelings_, but she shoves those ones away. For now.) She doesn’t want to wake him, necessarily, or startle him. But something more…subtle…

She ponders too long. There’s a catch in that deep breathing, and he tenses…very briefly, just long enough that Sara notices…before relaxing against her, shifting a fraction even closer.

Oooh, that’s nice. So is the way the hand that had been lying loosely over her side tightens on her hip, then drifts, just a little, in a very intriguing direction.

“Morning,” Leonard purrs into her ear. “Well, this is…convenient.”

Sara leans her head back onto his shoulder, trying not to squirm as his hand pauses at her lower stomach, just above the waistband of her sleep pants. His thumb skims over the bare skin there, under her shirt, and damn, weapons-calloused hands can be _sexy_.

“Very,” she manages. “What’d you say? ‘Jumpstart?’”

That gets her one of those low chuckles, and Sara nearly moans at what _that_ does. Weapons callouses on a lover’s hands? Very nice, and she’s experienced that before. But this is the first time a lover’s voice alone has been able to have this effect on her.

“Indeed,” Leonard says, still in that lovely low drawl. “Sleep well?” His fingertips slip under the soft material….and pause again.

“Very.” Sara decides to try to get a little of her own back. She lets herself squirm, pushing firmly back against him and the erection still intent against her lower back. That draws a quiet but very unmistakable intake of breath from Len and an involuntary twitch from said erection.

So, grinning, she does it again.

Leonard’s hand goes rigid for just a moment. Then he chuckles again—ooooohhh—and shifts, entangling their legs a little more and bringing his other hand (which had been pillowing his head) down to her shoulder.

“Behave,” he breathes into her ear before moving his mouth lower.

“Seriously?” Sara tries to laugh, but his teeth scrape her neck then, and she gasps again, letting her head drop back against him, feeling altogether wonderfully warm and aroused.

“If you distract me too much,” he whispers, fingers of his right hand resuming their course, “I won’t be able to focus on _you_.”

He’s moving _so_ slowly. Sara squirms again, despite herself. “Like you can’t focus on more than one thing at once,” she mutters. Leave it to Len to act like this is a goddamn heist.

He can’t argue with that…and he doesn’t even try. But those wonderfully calloused fingertips slip downward, then, unerringly, and into her folds…

And then she loses track of anything she’d been thinking whatsoever.

Sara cries out, grinding back against him again, and Len kisses her neck fiercely, alternating more gentle kisses with the just-faintly sharp scrape of teeth. His fingertips, having found their goal, are working her clit in a similar fashion, every-so-slightly-rough pressure alternating with far-more-gentle caresses.

It’s wonderfully effective, and Sara thinks she actually loses some time in pure pleasure, though Leonard seems to know just when to pull back to keep her from going over the edge.

“Len…” she manages eventually, gasping and trying not to keen, “…you…let me…do something for you…”

Leonard chuckles again. _Fuck_.

“Oh, Sara,” he says in that tone, clever fingers pausing just a moment. “Don’t you know you _are_?” He presses against her then, a little more, and Sara can feel every inch of his impressive length against her rear and back. “Can’t you tell?”

“Well…now that you mention it…” Sara moves against him again, deliberately and slowly along his length, pleased to hear the growl he can’t quite hold in. Then, impishly, she reaches back and wraps her own fingers around his cock, gently at first and then stroking harder, hearing his breath grow as ragged as her own.

“Very…funny…” he manages finally, moving his own hand again…and slipping one finger, then two, inside her, humming at the noise she makes. He adjusts his hand so that his thumb is still glancing over her clit, those long…oh, so fucking long and clever…fingers hunting inside her.

Sara loses whatever rhythm she’d had with him. Her fingers go slack, and she closes her eyes tightly, knowing that it’s probably not going to be much longer, not the way he’s so incessantly…

But…but that’s not quite what she wants here.

It takes quite the effort of concentration, but Sara manages to wrap her hand around him again, her own thumb brushing over his tip and drawing such a deep groan from him that it makes her shudder. (On top of everything else that’s going on.) At the same time, she makes sure to move back against him again and again…

His fingers curl, and Sara gasps, her own hand tightening.

“Len…” she mutters. “Damn it…I need…I…”

Teeth nip at her neck again. “What do you need, Sara?” she hears, Leonard’s voice low in her ear. “What do you _want_?”

“You…” But she doesn’t want to move out of this lovely arrangement, either, not now. “Oh…fuck…”

The part of her that’s still aware of turnabout as fair play leads her to tighten her fingers around him again, grind against him again, gasping and muttering fairly filthy things even as she starts to see stars behind her eyes. And now Len’s cursing, too, the words low and rough, and the motion of his hips, before almost involuntary, quickens, moving himself against her.

Sara cries out again. Louder than she’d like, on the ship, but she can’t help it; everything is intense and sharp and fantastic and…and her head falls back onto Len’s shoulder even as he gasps, too, hips moving sharply against her, warmth spreading against the small of her back, and…damnit….

They both lie still, then, for a while, trying to catch their breath.

Finally, Sara cranes her head back, trying to see Leonard’s expression, all too aware that this had gotten somewhat out of control. She has no regrets, but they’re going to need some cleaning up, and he’s always so very…so calm and collected…that she’s not sure how he’s going to take this.

But…he looks damned smug, is what he does. And not at all repentant.

They lock eyes a long moment…

And then they both laugh out loud, at themselves, at two grown adults acting like teenagers, unable to keep their hands off each other, messy and ravenous and really quite wonderful.

Sara sighs, then, reaching up to run her fingers along the scruff on Leonard’s jaw.

“That,” she murmurs, “was amazing.”

“Yes.”

Smug bastard. Sara shakes her head, amused, then sighs as she realizes what going to bed with damp hair and then doing _this_ has probably wrought.

“My hair is going to be a rat’s nest,” she murmurs, letting her hand drift up to his short-cropped hair. “You’re lucky.”

Len’s lips twitch as he watches her. “And maybe you know why I keep it short,” he says, then pauses. His next words have an odd air to them, maybe that of…a confession? Or just one of those simple facts that only a true…intimate…would know.

“Actually, it’s…curly…when it grows out,” he tells her quietly, as Sara runs her hand over the short salt-and-pepper hairs. “_Very_ curly.”

Now, that’s an image. Sara smiles, studying him, liking both that image and the fact that he’d shared it with her. “Really? Huh,” she muses. “I bet you look…cute.”

That gets an eyeroll. “_Cute_,” Len mutters. “Nice.” He props his head on a hand and watches her, seemingly unfazed by the disarray they’ve created of his bed. “So…”

But that’s all he says at the moment, letting his voice trail off, and Sara feels suddenly awkward again. She’s spent the night in his bed, sleeping besides him, and that was nothing they’d planned, really, and it’s something far more…emotionally intimate…than they’d originally gone into this for.

“I can go,” she says immediately, pulling away just a little, giving him that out. “I mean…thanks, but you probably want…”

“Sara.” He reaches out for her, and Sara pauses, caught by the tone of his voice…and the look on his face. “You could…”

But then the words trail off again, and she gets the unmistakable impression that even Len had no clear idea about how he’d been planning to finish that sentence. So, to give him a chance to decide, she lifts her voice in that “addressing Gideon” thing they all do, asking a pertinent question. “Gideon, what time is it?”

The AI speaks up immediately, and the faint thread of amusement in her tone quickly clues Sara in that she’s made a tactical error. “It is 11:19 a.m. Refuge time, Ms. Lance,” Gideon says, then continues as Sara and Len blink at each other. “Neither of you asked to be woken at a particular time, and you were quite soundly asleep until…fairly recently.”

Sara finds her voice. “_Crap_,” she says fervently, sitting up in the tangle of blankets. “Has anyone been…asking about us?”

“Not as such.” Gideon pauses. “A few people—Captain Hunter, Mr. Rory, Ms. Saunders—were looking for you individually, I believe, but they did not ask me.”

Another brief pause. “I would not…as you humans say…‘rat you out’ to them,” the AI adds firmly. “I am possessed of at least somewhat of an ability to prevaricate, even to my captain, unless something is a danger to the ship or crew. You…this is not. I would say, perhaps, the opposite.”

It’s a shock, really, hearing Gideon so decisively state such a thing, and Sara and Len trade a startled glance. But neither of them seems up to asking precisely what she means, either.

“Appreciate that, Gideon,” Len says finally, sitting up himself and swinging his legs around the side of the bed (and unobtrusively hitching up his pants, Sara notices). He rises, then turns back to Sara, holding out a hand, then letting it drop when she doesn’t take it.

She uses the sheets to clean up just a little, then clears her throat, rising on her own, turning back toward the bed to gather those sheets, thinking to drop them off at the laundry room on her way to the shower. “I can…”

“I got ‘em.” Leonard studies her, seeming a little uncertain briefly before he lets his more habitual smirk (and, yes, it’s still quite smug) back onto his face. “See you later?”

“I…yes.” Sara releases the sheets, then takes a step toward the door, then another, before looking back at him. “Thank you.”

The smirk grows. “Thank _you_.”

She rolls her eyes at him but smiles anyway. And reaches for the door.

And pauses again.

“What is it?” Leonard asks after a moment, quietly.

Sara turns back to face him, studying him as he leans against the bed, watching her in return.

“This has been great,” she says in a rush, “but I want…”

Her voice trails off. And after another moment, Leonard again picks up the thread.

“What do you want, Sara?” he asks, taking a step toward her, eyes dark, that familiar drawl elongating the “s” of her name in a way that’s alluring as hell. And maybe that’s why Sara finally says it, pushing this…this whatever it is…forward again, despite all the complications she’s starting to wonder about.

“You,” she tells him, meeting that gorgeous blue gaze, tone sober, trying to impress upon him just how serious she is. “I still want you. Inside me. Not rushed, not interrupted, not…not just fooling around and getting each other off, as much fun as that’s been. I want _you_. I want to figure out a way to do that.”

Leonard’s expression doesn’t flicker, and neither do his eyes. They stay steady, dark, intent.

“Then we will,” he says, not breaking her gaze, tone just as serious. “Figure it out. OK?”

“OK.” Sara, letting out a breath, reaches for the door again.

This time, his voice stops her. “Sara?”

She looks back at him, too, noting something…intense…in the tone.

“I want you, too.”

Stepping out that door, at that moment, is one of the more difficult things she’s ever done.

* * *

Letting Sara step out that door, at that moment, is one of the more difficult things Leonard’s ever done.

So much so that he stands there and watches the door for a good long time, probably longer than he should, uncertain whether he’s waiting to see if she’ll return…or to be sure she’s gone before he opens the door again. But eventually it becomes clear that it doesn’t matter, and he turns away with a sigh, gathering the sheets and hoping he can get to the laundry room unobtrusively.

Then he puts them down again and changes quickly out of his own sleep clothing and into something…cleaner…shifting the older items into the sheets and heading for the door before he can balk again.

Sara’s nowhere in sight. No one is. Len skulks down the hall, trying to look like he’s not skulking and knowing that he’s failing miserably, finally making it to the laundry room and dumping his armload into one of the automated machines there. He watches it start, then turns on his heel to head back to his room and then to the shower.

Mick’s standing in the door, watching him.

Len stops, falling back on habitual attitude nearly instantly while still hoping fervently that his friend hadn’t seen Sara leaving his room. He’s not embarrassed, he’s just…he’s not ready for that.

“Mick,” he drawls, resuming forward motion, stalking toward the door and then past Mick as the other man (thankfully) moves.

“Snart,” he hears behind him. “You been hiding in your room all morning?”

Another denial about fucking _hiding_ is on his lips, but…there’s no point in belaboring the point again. “You tellin’ me you’re not sick of all this…” he tosses over his shoulder, casting about for a good description of the Refuge, “...pastoral garbage?”

Mick’s voice follows him, as, apparently, does Mick. “Some of us are trying to work on that, asshole.”

“What, you want a trophy?” Frankly, it makes Leonard just a little jealous—something he’ll only admit to himself—that his partner has the time-travel know-how to be involved in all the brain trust stuff while Len doesn’t. He keeps going, down the hall.

Mick makes an annoyed noise. “Had a breakthrough, actually,” he calls after Leonard, apparently stopping. “Well, maybe. Wanted to bounce it off you.”

Len slows, despite himself, then stops and turns to consider the other man. Mick shrugs at him.

“You’re the one who always read all that sci-fi crap,” he mutters, glancing away. “Thought you might have...thoughts.”

Leonard opens his mouth to retort...then closes it. He’s not sure what to say, he realizes.

So, he just shrugs too. An affirmative.

* * *

It’s a while before Sara finally wanders over to the main buildings of the Refuge, in part because she doesn’t want to look hurried or guilty for how (or where) she’d spent the morning. Though, truthfully, no one really seems to care. Rip, poking morosely at his lunch, notes that he’d been looking for her on the ship earlier, but whatever question he’d had, it’d apparently already been answered elsewhere, and he certainly doesn’t seem talkative.

Sara takes her distractedness elsewhere, then, around the building and then out to the grounds, deciding that a good walk might help settle her.

She’s still a bit surprised at herself, actually, about how she’d upped the ante on what’s going on with her and Leonard—although, to be honest, good ol’ sex, purely physical, is what she’d had in mind from the beginning. But that had been before they’d actually started messing around, and before she’d realized just how it was going to...to affect her.

Sara bites her lip as she skirts the edge of a patch of wildflowers behind the Refuge’s outbuildings, picking over her own feelings. Because they are. Feelings. Ugh.

Maybe she needs to take a step back, instead of the step more or less forward she’d taken earlier, she thinks, pausing to scan the grounds around her, the main building of the Refuge off to the left, the Waverider ahead, the Pilgrim’s nameless ship beyond it. But then…she hadn’t thought…

She frowns, suddenly, seeing two figures leave the Waverider and walk toward the other ship. She’d know Len’s saunter anywhere, and that’s definitely Mick with him. They’ve been avoiding each other again lately, or Len’s been avoiding Mick at least, so it’s good they’re talking now…right? But what are they…

They wouldn’t just…Leonard wouldn’t just leave her…the team…would they? Sara starts moving, picking up the pace, heading for the smaller ship as the two men vanish, apparently within. She’s not sure why she’s suddenly so worried, but every instinct tells her to be, although she’s not positive why.

She’s still not sure a few moments later, when a sudden low, almost subsonic hum emits from the ship as she draws closer.

Or when a sudden explosion of blue-white light, also centered on the craft, makes her throw an arm up and over her eyes.

Or when she hears someone yelling Leonard’s name, again and again, fear in their voice.

Or then when she realizes that it’s her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me. There's still a lot of story to go.


	5. No Sir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Len is fine. Sara is pissed. Angry sex ensues. You're welcome.
> 
> Thanks to Pir8rl!

By the time Sara gets close enough to the ship—and the afterimages of whatever the light had been fade enough for her to see—she can see that the craft is still intact. In fact, Mick’s standing outside it, shading his eyes too, looking vaguely concerned.

He grunts when he sees Sara, then glances over his shoulder at the sound of others approaching. She does too, scanning the grounds to see Rip running toward them, then looks back around at a noise.

A figure is walking out of the ship, something large and cylindrical slung over its shoulder, goggles concealing most of its face. His face.

Leonard.

Sara lets out a long breath, uncertain if she’s more relieved or more pissed off. Or both.

Both, she decides. Both will work.

“What the bloody _hell _were you thinking?!” Rip yells as he draws closer. “Do you know what you could have done?!”

Leonard reaches up and hooks a finger under his goggles, pulling them away from his face and then letting them fall down around his neck. He gives the captain a withering look, hefting the object on his shoulder and then holding it out to Mick, who steps forward with alacrity to take it.

“That you needed something removed from that ship and that you didn’t even think about asking the person in your team who’s an expert at removing things people don’t want removed,” he tells Rip, something biting in the tone. “Not real bright yourself, _captain_. Why’d you even bother recruiting for those skills if you weren’t going to use them?”

Rip pulls himself up, obviously a little startled that Leonard’s gone on the offensive. He glances at Mick, who shrugs, then back at Leonard, some of the indignation going out of his posture.

“That could have killed you,” he tells the thief, tone bleak. “There are safeguards...”

“I’m good with safeguards,” Len shoots back. “That’s kinda the idea, ain’t it? Of being a thief? Fuck, ask the Flash.” For the first time since emerging, he glances over at Sara, tossing her that so-familiar, unrepentant smirk.

Sara looks back, stony-faced.

Leonard loses the smirk. Quickly.

“Yes, well, the Pilgrim’s safeguards weren’t necessarily the sort you’d see in a 2016 museum, no matter how high-tech, Mr. Snart.” Rip runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head, apparently blind to the stare down going on nearby. “We should get you to medbay, make sure that temporal radiation...”

“I’m _fine_...”

“Yes. You are.” A new voice, cool and full of the timbre that schoolteachers and strict parents have perfected throughout the years, breaks in. Sara half-turns to see Mary Xavier standing there, arms folded, eyeing Leonard like he’s a small boy who’s just pulled someone’s pigtails.

“You are,” she repeats, as Len—to Sara’s amazement—shuffles his feet for all the world like that troublesome schoolboy. “That was only a light flare, an alarm. Not a burst of temporal radiation that could have killed you and damaged everyone else here. Not a beacon that could have brought the Hunters down on the Refuge and _my children_. You were incredibly lucky.”

She takes a step forward. Leonard, to Sara’s great glee, takes a step back. “Tell me, Mr. Snart, did you know for a fact that you could avoid those things? That they were even possible if you removed that ship’s time drive? Or were you just so full of ego and boredom and frustration that you just strolled in there without thinking things through?”

Leonard’s chin goes up. “I know my work,” he tells her, sharpness and the faintest thread of uncertainty blending together uneasily in his voice.

Mary sniffs at him, a sound full of skepticism. “You were lucky,” she repeats, then turns away, a clear dismissal. “Michael, now that you have that thing, make sure you do any experimentation somewhere shielded. I’ll speak to you later.”

“Yes, Mum,” Rip tells her, sounding rather like a schoolboy himself, and one who’s far more cowed than Leonard. He exchanges a glance with Mick—who, frankly, looks rather gratified that he’d come out of this relatively unscathed—then looks back at Len, frown deepening again.

“Medbay,” he tells the crook, tone brooking no disagreement. “Now. Not that I don’t trust Mary’s perceptions, but it’s better to be careful when talking about temporal radiation.” He glances at Sara. “Ms. Lance, see that he gets there?”

Sara nods, and the captain turns away, stalking back toward the Refuge himself. Mick glances between her and Leonard, makes an odd noise, and immediately follows Rip, apparently deciding that’s the safer route to take at the moment.

Leonard, frowning, watches them go. “You’re welcome,” he mutters, then glances back at Sara.

Who’s already turned away herself.

* * *

Leonard Snart is not a happy camper.

When Mick had told him about the brain trust’s thoughts on how interference from temporal energy might be able to mess with the Time Masters— and the Time Masters’ ability to fuck with them—it’d been an obvious sidestep to talking about the time drive in the Pilgrim’s ship. And once Mick had admitted that there seemed to be some sort of weird security protocols on that other ship, ones that Rip and Haircut hadn’t been able to get through, it’d been the sort of challenge Leonard just couldn’t refuse.

Maybe, Leonard admits, he’s been a little more unsettled about just how useless (to anyone other than Sara) he seems to be here than he’d let on. But he’d also done it, “stolen” the time drive with no harm done, and shouldn’t that count for something? Something other than being scolded and then dismissed again, anyway.

He follows Sara back toward the Waverider, studying the tense set of her shoulders and...OK, as always, watching her ass...as they walk. He’d have thought she’d get it, the need to use his skills, to be useful. Why _is _she mad at him, anyway?

Unless...wait.

He follows her onto the ship (gods, she’s adorable when she kind of stomps her feet like that, but he will never, ever tell her so), thinking back to when he’d strolled out of the ship, seeing Mick waiting but also Sara and Rip, both presumably drawn by the flare. He hadn’t seen quite clearly at first, but when he’d removed his goggles, she’d been there, watching, and though he’d been dealing with the time drive, he couldn’t help glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She’d looked...

Leonard’s footsteps slow.

She’d looked pissed, mostly.

But under that...

Frankly, she’d looked...frozen.

No_. Scared_.

For him?

She hadn’t actually thought…

Sara pauses ahead and looks back at him. Her face is carefully blank, now. Leonard picks up the pace, trying to figure out what to say, but she motions him into the medbay—and, for once, he obeys without question, strolling over to one of the chair/beds and perching on the edge before studying her again. Sara puts her back against the wall and watches him in return.

Gideon’s voice breaks into their tableau. “Lie back, Mr. Snart,” she commands. “Just for a moment. That will help get this scan over with.”

She sounds irritated too. Leonard complies, but he also lifts an eyebrow.

“You too, Gideon?” he drawls, folding his hands and staring at the ceiling. “Thought you’d get it.”

“Oh, I ‘get it,’ Mr. Snart.” A soft pulse of light starts at his feet and sweeps slowly up over him. “I get that you felt the need to prove your worth, so you did something rather stupid.”

“Ex_cuse_ me…”

The light continues. “I get that you were pleased Mr. Rory asked your advice. I get that, although he is Chronos, you wanted to show him you’re still the better thief.”

“I did _not_…”

The light reaches his head and winks out. “And I get that you worried a number of people in various ways…and that you owe some of those people an apology.” A pause, while Leonard glares at the ceiling. “And that you are very fortunate, for while it does seem that the time drive released some energy, it was a very minor dose. Neither enough to damage you or to alert the Time Masters.”

Leonard, who frankly hadn’t even realized that it was a real possibility, at least not if he removed the time drive without damaging it, let his mouth snap shut. He struggles into a sitting position, briefly at a loss, and looks over at Sara, who’s giving him a steely look.

“See?” he tells her—perhaps unwisely. “I’m fine.”

Sara’s eyes narrow. _Definitely_ unwisely.

“Right,” she says shortly, folding her arms. “Fine.”

Apologize or double down? Leonard’s chin goes up. He _hates_ apologizing. “What do you want me to say?” he asks, a bit shortly himself. “I’m sorry?”

Sara glares back at him. “Are you?”

“No.” The word escapes his mouth before he thinks better of it. “Someone had to do it. Better me than the Boy Scout.”

Sara looks briefly startled…and then pissed again. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Leonard gets to his feet, feeling indignant in his own right. “He’d have fucked it up.”

“And you didn’t?”

Oh, now, that’s not fair. Len glares at her. “We have the time drive. And I’m here, aren’t I?”

Sara starts, then advances on him, eyes still narrowed. “By accident, maybe.”

“I knew what I was doing!”

“I saw you and Mick walk up to that ship…” Sara takes a deep breath, then resumes glaring, just a few feet away. “And then it looked like it exploded. In white light. Did you know it was going to do that?”

He hadn’t. “I knew it’d do that.”

“Bullshit.”

Leonard takes a step toward her. “You think I should have sat on my ass and waited for someone else to do it?”

“Yes!” Sara snarls back, stepping closer too.

“Why?” Leonard folds his arms. “I’m the thief. You’re the assassin. Right?”

Sara actually growls at him. Which is…

Ridiculously sexy, really.

He barely has time to think that, though, before she takes a few more steps…and shoves him back against the medbay wall.

“You’re an idiot,” she hisses at him, forearm against his throat.

_Fuck_. That’s just…_fuck_.

“Yeah?” Leonard hisses back, aroused despite himself. “And what was I supposed to…?”

Sara snakes her other hand around his head, yanks him forward, eyes blazing…and kisses him.

She kisses him so hard that his head crashes back against the wall, moving her other hand to clench in the collar of his shirt, lips hot on his own. Len drags in a breath and kisses her back, hands fastening on her hips, content to let her push him against the wall, every bit of him on fire where she’s pressed against him.

That kiss drags on so long that Len’s head spins, before Sara pulls away a very little, taking a deep breath herself.

“I thought you were dead,” she says against his lips. “You _jackass_.”

Oh. Ooooh. She _cares_.

Leonard knows better than to push her right now. But he smirks anyway, right against her frown, his hands tightening on her hips a little more. “Would you miss me, Sara?” he whispers roughly, holding her firmly against him. “_Would_ you? Really? _How much_?”

Sara growls again. And then she kisses him again, using teeth, nipping at his bottom lip and then deepening the kiss when he gasps, tongue sweeping into his mouth aggressively, molding her body against him.

_Fuck_. Leonard spins them around, pressing Sara up against the wall, groaning when she uses the leverage and his hands on her hips to pick her legs up and wrap them around his waist, moving against him firmly. She moves her mouth to his jaw, then his neck, and he feels the sharp pain of teeth again, scraping, nipping, biting, that arousing mix of gentleness and aggression. She’s obviously taking pains to mark him, and, gods, that’s _hot_.

Using the wall to keep her in place, he moves one of his hands around to her front, resting it on the snap of her pants and pulling back just far enough to meet her eyes.

Her furious, dark, passion-filled eyes.

_Fuck_.

Maybe it’s not a good idea to do this when they’re both in this sort of state, Len thinks rather distantly…but before he can say anything that stupid, Sara leans forward and hisses at him.

“If you don’t fuck me soon, I’m going to slit your fucking throat.” Her voice is so unstrung that she barely sounds like herself, and while the words are rather…OK, really disturbing…he also knows her well enough that the threat is an empty one.

Mostly.

But the request…the demand…is 100 percent real.

Sara seems to have no willingness at all to let go of him, so Leonard again makes use of the wall to support her while he uses both hands to undo her pants and start working them downward. That only gets them so far…though the way she squirms against him as he works definitely gets him even harder.

By that time, though, Sara pulls this rather incredible maneuver in which she leaves one leg hooked around him and unwinds the other, letting Len keep working down her pants, then switching legs as he gets them off her. (When did she take her shoes off? he wonders in some corner of his sex-hazed brain. And how?) Then she’s bare and warm against him, grinding and muttering incoherent words, and starts working at his own jeans.

“Do they fucking have to be _this_ tight?” she growls at him, leaning back just a little and struggling to push the fabric down. Her hands are nearly feverishly warm, and as soon as the jeans are down far enough, she reaches between the two of them and wraps one of those small, strong hands around his cock, right through the fabric of his briefs, and strokes him. “I mean, that can’t be comfortable.”

Leonard closes his eyes, shuddering. He’s not sure he can manage a coherent response right now, but he does push at his jeans himself, with hands that don’t seem to want to work. Well, all the blood is almost certainly elsewhere.

Sara lets him get them down so far, then makes an annoyed noise and shoves his briefs down too. “_Now_,” she commands, leaning back against the wall…good gods, the amount of strength in her! Her hand tightens on him again, firm and warm, guiding him into her.

“You’re sure you want…” It’s probably a stupid thing to ask, given the procession of activities here. But…this wasn’t what he’d wanted for the first time they went this far. He’d envisioned—oh, yes, he’d thought about it—something slower and definitely more private. Not angry sex up against the medbay wall, as incredibly hot as it is.

Sara’s eyes flash. “Fuck me, Leonard,” she growls, moving one hand up to his shoulders and tightening her grip again, nails scraping his skin. Fortunately, although her other hand tightens on him too, there are no nails involved. Just that strong, firm grip, between them.

Leonard takes a deep breath, using the wall as leverage, and thrusts into her, holding her tight against him as she moans. She’s ridiculously ready for him, and it feels fucking amazing, and for just a long moment, they freeze, joined like that. Len pulls his head back just far enough to see Sara’s expression and…

“Are you OK?” he asks, ready to pull out, to back away, to stop everything. Because there are tears in Sara’s eyes, and no matter what she’s said leading up to this, he doesn’t want there to be any doubt in her mind.

But she shakes her head, then, the motion somehow still furious despite the vulnerable expression. “I thought you were dead,” she repeats. “I thought you were _dead_, jackass. I thought you went and did something stupid and died, and we’d never get to do this, and I wanted…”

Leonard does something foolish. Again. He stops her words with a kiss, a deep, slow one, and starts to move again, slowly and carefully and paying attention to every moan and gasp Sara makes.

“I’m still…pissed…at you…” she mutters, in between those other noises…and in between kissing him back, slightly more gently this time.

“Mmhmm…” Leonard closes his eyes and moves faster, harder, listening to her breathing catch, realizing that this probably isn’t going to take as long as he’d like it to. “I know. And…I’m sorry.”

Sara glares at him, even as she moves too, adjusting the angle a little and gasping. “You better…oh my _god_…be.”

“I am.” Leonard’s own breath catches, and he slows a little, against instinct, wanting Sara to be ready too. He moves one hand down and between them, relying on Sara’s strength and the wall to keep her steady, seeking her clit and using his fingertips in the way she’s liked so much before.

“Fuck!” The word explodes out of her. Sara moves her head to the side and bites his neck again, just on the painful side of pleasure, tightening her legs around him. “Len…I…this isn’t going to…”

Leonard, pleased with his own ability to multitask in this fashion, keeps up both the (mostly) steady thrusting and the gentler touch. “Gonna…what?”

“Take long.” She cries out a little, a breathless noise that just plain _does_ something to him. “Oh…”

“Same.” There are gray edges to his vision now, and things are…progressing. “Sara…I…”

But she tips over the edge, then, head thrown back as she cries out, louder and abandoned, and that pulls Len with her as her muscles clench around him. He closes his eyes and hold her against him, shuddering against the wall, until the world slowly comes back into focus, and Sara carefully unhooks her legs from around him, putting her feet gingerly down on the floor as they pull apart.

“Fuck,” she repeats, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “That…”

“Yeah.” Leonard hesitates, then reaches forward, putting a careful hand along Sara’s jaw and tilting her face up toward him. “Sara, I…really am sorry.”

A smile lingers on her lips. “For _this_? Why?”

“No…” She really is messing with him. “For doing something that dumb. I didn’t mean…to scare you.”

Somewhat to his surprise, she doesn’t deny it. Instead, she just nods, then looks around, flushing a little at their disheveled and semi-naked status. “We’re lucky no one came in here.”

“It wasn’t luck.” Gideon’s tart voice makes them both start. “I told anyone who approached that Mr. Snart was…resting. You’re welcome.”

“Thank you, Gideon,” Leonard tells the AI, as Sara grabs a towel and starts putting her clothing back in order, tossing him one too. “Appreciate that.”

It takes a little time to get them both sorted out and ready to leave the medbay, and Leonard’s not opposed to that at all. As Sara takes a step toward the door, he reaches out and puts a careful hand on her shoulder, meeting the uncertain gaze she directs back at him.

“We OK?” he asks quietly.

Sara studies them…and then smiles a little more. “Yeah.” She reaches up and touches one of the red marks on his neck. “Good thing you like turtlenecks.”

Len smirks at her. “It was hot,” he admits. “But…next time…”

Sara waits, lifting an eyebrow. “Next time?”

He steps closer, leaning down to whisper. “Next time…I want to take my time with you. And believe me…you _will_ enjoy it. _A lot_.”

Sara’s definitely flushed. “Well,” she says, smirking back. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”

The medbay door slides open in front of them. They both look up, stepping apart, ready to act like nothing whatsoever has happened, or changed.

But it’s Mick who’s standing there, watching them, both eyebrows lifted and a rather definitely knowing expression on his face.

_Crap_. Leonard eyes his partner, ready to prevaricate. Sara clears her throat, then strolls forward like she’s merely on her way back to her room, everything simply business as usual.

“The idiot’s OK,” she says, turning to wink at Leonard. “Gideon gave him a clean bill of health.”

“Uh huh,” Mick mutters, watching as she heads off down the hall. “Right. Good.” He looks back at Leonard, who’s trying to sidestep in the other direction. “No trouble from the time energy?”

“Nope.” Leonard sidesteps again. “Shouldn’t you be studying that damned thing with the others?”

“Wanted to make sure you weren’t dead, jackass.”

_“I thought you were _dead_, jackass.” _Sara’s angry words burn in his memory. “Nope. Not dead. Just fine. See?” He turns toward his room with alacrity. “See you later.”

Mick’s voice is so low that Leonard can barely hear him. “You owe me, asshat.”

Leonard just walks faster, smirking to himself.


	6. Cold as a Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot in the beginning, smut toward the end. 
> 
> Many thanks to Pir8grl.
> 
> For anyone new here, my beloved personal headcanon is that Mary Xavier is a Time Lord. Fight me.

After that...well. Sara’s not too sure what to do.

She’s feeling this odd mix of post-sex languor and adrenaline, two feelings that go very oddly together, and part of her wants to turn back and find Len again—and drag him off somewhere where he can make good on that parting line of his. But between Mick’s presence and the fact that they’ve already spent rather a lot of time together behind closed door today, it seems more...politic...to go elsewhere.

Damn it.

She’s on her way over to the house when Mick catches up to her. Sara eyes him a moment, expecting her friend to give her shit over his clear suspicions about her and Leonard—but instead, he just glances at her and makes a noncommittal noise. She nods back to him, wondering, but then thinks more of earlier questions.

“So...that time drive,” she says carefully, as they step on to the path. “Why did you want it?”

After a moment, Mick grunts.

“Well,” he says, “Brain Trust thinks they know why the Time Bastards’ gadget, or whatever it is, doesn’t work here or at the Vanishing Point.” A shrug. “It’s...like…um. Something to do with that wild temporal energy. This supernova thing, at the Vanishing Point, makes it impossible to use it there. And this place, it’s the same.”

Sara considers that. “So, what’s causing it here?”

Mick gives her a smirk. “Dunno. If Rip’s mom knows, she ain’t sayin’.” He chuckles, a faint edge of malice in his voice. “He’s not too happy about that.”

“I bet.” Sara finds Mary Xavier intriguing, but she’s not sure about the woman’s motivations. “So, you think you can use the extra time drive to...”

“Yeah. We might be able to use all the temporal energy there to create some sort of...shield.” He waves a hand. “Dunno. Something we can put on the Waverider.” He scowls at nothing in particular. “Something that makes, like…noise.”

Sara eyes him, thinking. Mick, she’s learned, is far smarter than people usually assume, but he does have trouble with words sometimes. “Static? Like from a radio? Interference?”

“That’s it.” He makes a noise of satisfaction. “Like a radio. And they can’t tune in on us.”

“Huh. Going to go help again?”

“Gotta keep those geeks from doing anything _too_ dumb.” He smirks at her, and Sara grins back in return.

“OK,” she says with satisfaction of her own, glad to have something else to think about. “Coming with.”

* * *

Leonard is up to something else entirely—in part because he presumes many of the others will be studying the time drive he’d apparently risked his life to get. And while he hadn’t quite planned it that way, he’s thief enough to take advantage of a distraction where he can get it.

He doesn’t think Rip or Sara or Mick had noticed, being altogether too busy being pissed at him at the time, but Mary Xavier had come from a different direction than the rest of them. She hadn’t been dressed for it—at least as far as a city boy like him knows—but she’d been in the big building nearby that’s nominally used as a barn. And he’d seen her put a book into one of those big pockets in her coat.

Worth a shot.

Len pauses in the entry of the barn, making sure there’s no one inside…well, no one but the—what the hell are those things? Horses? Ponies? Then he edges in, wrinkling his nose and eyeing the critters therein with faint suspicion.

They seem to eye him back with the same. There’s one big one, a ruddy brown color with a white streak on its face, and a milling assortment of ponies. He thinks they’re ponies. They’re small. Kid sized.

Len edges farther into the building, glad the creatures are in pens. He’s never claimed to be anything other than a denizen of the city.

“I don’t suppose you all know if there’s some sort of a secret entrance in here, do you?” he asks them drily.

The big one snorts at him and stamps a foot. Hoof? The pony things eye him suspiciously.

Leonard glances around the room. The interior of the building—the portion that’s visible--definitely is smaller than the outside. But that doesn’t necessarily mean there’s anything mysterious. For all he knows, the back half of the building is one giant pile of horsesh…

“Fancy meeting you here, Mr. Snart.”

Len’s not too proud to admit he jumps—and then twitches, knowing full well that he probably looks much like a startled cat. Then he glances around at Mary Xavier, who folds her hands in front of her and smiles serenely at him.

“Xavier,” he drawls, trying to regain his chill. “Same.”

That earns him a slight chuckle. “Well, at least I have a reason for being here,” the mistress of the Refuge points out, just a tiny bit tartly.

“Who’s saying I don’t?”

Mary Xavier chuckles again, as she strolls past him, toward the bigger horse, who seems to be watching her intently. She scratches its nose while Leonard watches warily.

“Well,” she says then, glancing over to him. “I rather doubt you want to take Comet here out for a gallop. And you’d look rather ridiculous on one of the ponies. Even on Sharp-ears there, your feet would drag the ground.”

There’s nothing to say to that. Not really. Leonard takes a step back, prepared to beat a hasty retreat, but Mary’s eyes stay on him.

“Or…” she says slowly, still patting the horse, “maybe you’re not here at all to interact with these lovely creatures. Perhaps you’re looking for something else.”

Leonard takes another step back.

And Mary rolls her eyes.

“Or,” she says, tone dry, “maybe you’d like to see what Michael persists in calling ‘the vault.’ I swear, that boy always did have a flare for the dramatic.”

Leonard stops.

Mary smiles.

* * *

They go down a short corridor, past a heavy wooden door his guide unlocks with the old-fashioned metal keyring on her belt. Leonard tries not to study the lock too obviously, then gives up. She would, he thinks, probably be more surprised if he didn’t look.

There’s another door at the end of the corridor, but Mary doesn’t open that door. Instead, she turns to her right, leading him to what seems to be the start of a flight of steps spiraling downward. Into the dark. She motions Leonard to go ahead of her.

For all his curiosity, he halts in his tricks. There are very, very few people he’ll trust with his back—although that number has been growing—but he doesn’t even remotely know this woman enough to do so. No matter how much he wants to see what’s down there.

Mary studies him a second. “Ah,” she says quietly. Then she nods and starts down the stairs herself. After a minute, Leonard cautiously follows her.

At first, it’s simply dark. But then, an odd fixture on a wall niche flickers into light as the woman passes, staying lit as Leonard carefully moves by it too. And then another, lower. And another.

Finally, they come to the bottom…well, a floor, although Leonard sees the staircase spiral downward into the darkness even more on his other side. He turns away quickly, though, as Mary heads off down another corridor, one that lights at her presence.

There’s another door there. She unlocks it with a different key as Leonard watches, then opens it and steps inside, setting off another light, holding the door for the wary Legend.

There are, as hoped for, books. Leonard turns ‘round, looking, unable to control a feeling of intense interest. _Many_ books, in a large room whose dimensions he can’t quite parse out immediately. Not only those whose spines look similar to the journal that he’d seen Rip reading, but others, of many shapes and sizes.

He hears Mary chuckle behind him.

“So, is it all you’d hoped, Mr. Snart?” she asks a bit archly. “When you were getting lost in the sub-basement or poking around in every nook and cranny you could reach in the house?”

Leonard eyes her, folding his arms. “What can I say?” he drawls. “I was…curious.”

“Of course you were.” The woman moves past him, inspecting the shelves, then turns back, smiling a little as she spreads her hands in front of her.

“You want weapons. We're in a library,” she says with an air of quotation. “Books are the best weapons in the world. This room's the greatest arsenal we could have. Arm yourself!”

The words nearly startle a laugh out of him, but instead, Leonard narrows his eyes at her, wondering. Mary clears catches his recognition, however, and gives him what seems to be a sincere smile.

“Ah,” she says. “You do, as Dr. Palmer said, ‘speak geek.’”

He hedges. Raymond had said _what_? “Maaayyybeee…” Time to change the subject? “So why the bunker situation here?”

Mary reaches out and runs her fingers gently down the spine of a particularly old-looking book. “Well. Not everything the Time Masters have done has been bad, Mr. Snart. And they do have enemies who are quite evil. The knowledge in this room…it needs to survive. There are things here rescued from the Library of Alexandria—or, I should say, copied from those things, at the least.”

Leonard can feel his eyes widen. It’s an effort to go back to his usual unimpressed smirk—but he tries. “So why keep them down here instead of copied and spread around the world?”

“Well. Because some of them aren’t from this Earth.”

He stares at her. She smiles.

“Another quote, Mr. Snart,” Mary says gently. “ ‘Go then, there are other worlds than these.’ ”

Chill. Be chill. “How so?”

“You know our decisions make ripples in the world.” She studies him. “Imagine, say, a world in which you had meta ice powers instead of your cold gun.” His shudder draws a slight smile. “Or one in which your Sara didn’t exist. That there is only one Canary, rather different than any of those who’ve existed here.”

The words are so chilling that Len ignores the use of “your.” “What?”

But Mary’s continued. “Perhaps you might have been stuck in 1958 too, with your teammates. Or perhaps, even, in one world you might have been a Time Master.” She laughs at his expression. “You and Michael might have been foster brothers.” A gentle smile. “And you my foster son.”

That seems colossally unlikely, and more than a little disturbing. “And how do you know about these…other worlds?”

“Ah, well, I wasn’t always the caretaker of the Refuge.” She continues before he can really digest that. “And say, in one world, perhaps, this team of Legends did not figure out the Time Masters’ level of control over them. And they didn’t learn so until things were far more…critical.”

The words hang in the quiet space. Leonard considers.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asks, finally.

“Because you’re an interesting fellow, Mr. Snart,” Mary Xavier tells him. “And you’re at the pivot point of many interesting things.” She nods. “As such, you may be able to change them. For the better…or the worse.”

There’s something ominous about those last two words. “And how do you know that?”

“A world can change on the smallest detail, Mr. Snart. A life. A death. A love. A loss. Perhaps...perhaps I have seen it before.”

“Ah.” After a moment, Len gives her a quote of his own. “All this has happened before, and all of this will happen again.”

Mary beams at him, a quick change from her earlier seriousness. “Did you know, Mr. Snart, that that line, though co-opted by science fiction, comes from, of all place, Barrie’s ‘Peter Pan?’ ‘All of this has happened before, and it will all happen again.’ ”

He hadn’t. “Brought me down here to tell me that?”

“Among other things.” Nodding, the woman turns back to one of the bookshelves, scanning it and then pulling out a book that looks much like the journal he’d seen before. “You wanted to see the Time Master journals. Here’s an interesting one.”

She extends it to him. Leonard eyes it a moment, then accepts, wondering.

There are a lot of questions he’d like to ask. But…he’s also eerily certain that perhaps he should keep his peace right now.

From the smile Mary gives him, he’s pretty sure, too, that she knows what he’s thinking.

“I must return to the house,” she declares, then, stepping back toward the door. “And I’m sorry, Mr. Snart, but I don’t leave people alone down here. There are…protections.”

He’d take that as a challenge, but suddenly, Leonard is very, very sure that’s not a game he wants to play. “Got it.” He follows her toward the door, trying not to shiver as the lights, as if curiously aware, go out. “Xavier?”

She turns back, already in the corridor beyond the library, oddly illuminated by the lights there. “Snart?”

_If you’ve seen me here before, what was different? Why tell me this now?_

“Never mind.”

* * *

Sara’s pretty pleased that if she’s done nothing else to help, she’s pointed out something simple that none of the rest of them seem to have thought of…that it might help, when talking about modifying the Waverider to block out the Time Masters, to have the discussion somewhere where Gideon can listen in and contribute.

Even Rip had stared at her in surprise when she’d brought it up, before running a hand through his hair in consternation, and Sara wonders, just a little, if that sort of blind spot isn’t encouraged in the lower-level Time Masters. Certainly, Rip’s seemed to treat Gideon as more of a partner at times, but even he seems prone to occasionally forgetting that the AI does have some knowledge and initiative of her own.

Because Jax has been the one reading up on and tinkering with the Waverider’s systems, he’s brought in on the discussions too, something that seems to make the younger man pretty happy. Sara, who’s also wondered before why the younger man had been left out, likes that too.

And it means that when they all troop off to the Waverider that evening, she’s pretty sure the Refuge is deserted, at least of Legends. Kendra is back at the ship already, refreshing her older memories by using Gideon’s databanks to learn how to write in various forms of hieroglyphics. She has no idea where Mary is—presumably overseeing some of her charges, though Sara knows there are supposedly other instructors here, for all the Legends never seen them.

So. If she can just find Leonard…

At first, she has no luck. He’s not on the ship. He’s not in the workroom in the Refuge, nor the kitchen, nor the library. He doesn’t seem to be out on the grounds, though she figures she can dismiss the barn or any areas that are even remotely pastoral. Sara even checks the Pilgrim’s ship, with no luck.

Finally, a little disappointed at the loss of a chance, she returns to the room she’s using, occasionally anyway, at the Refuge.

Only to find Leonard, a large book tucked under his arm and an odd expression on his face, and he’s just turning away from her door as she strolls down the corridor.

Sara can’t help being pleased at the way his eyes brighten a little as he sees her, though it’s quickly concealed behind his habitual smirk…and a drawled “Hey.”

“Hey.” Sara studies him. “What’ve you been up to?”

That gets her a shrug. “Long story. But…”

But she decides, then, that she’s not up for long stories. Not now. Not here. Instead, Sara simply reaches out and grabs a fistful of Len’s shirt in one hand, even as she reaches out to open the door with the other. And then she backs inside, dragging him with him.

Leonard goes amenably, eyes darkening a bit. “Why, Sara,” he drawls, “_whatever_ do you have on your mind?”

Sara rolls her eyes at him as she shuts the door behind them…and then shoves him up against it, goes up on her toes, and kisses him, hard.

For a while, they just focus on that, long enough that they’re both pretty worked up when they come up for air. Leonard, to Sara’s amusement, looks distinctly rattled, but he’s still got that book under his arm. And as she watches, he shifts the volume gently, sitting it down on a nearby chair like it’s something precious before he looks back at her.

Unable to resist, she waves a hand toward it. “What’s that?”

“Long story.” Leonard rolls his head around on his neck, watching her, a slight, suggestive smile on his lips. “So, three times in one day, Lance? Thirsty, aren’t you?”

Sara’s more than willing to forget the mystery book for now. “Hey, it’s been a long drought.” She advances on him, slowly, making her intentions even more clear. “So…quickie?”

Leonard’s eyes gleam as she approaches. “Not gonna argue,” he drawls, reaching for her. “Still want to find a way to take our time one of these days, though.”

Sara loops her arms around his neck. “We could now,” she says, or purrs, even more aroused by the thought of it. “If…”

Len’s gaze is regretful. “Ship’s crawling with people. Here isn’t, but they could flood back any time. And it’s well into evening. They’ll be going to bed.”

And the guest rooms are all around them. It makes sense, with what she knows of the immensely private Leonard, that he’d be uneasy with people hearing them.

“Another time, then,” Sara decides, looking up at him. Then she hauls his head down to hers and kisses him soundly again.

Leonard seems quite into that, and she takes advantage of it, backing him up one step at a time until the back of his legs hit the bed. And when he takes a breath, she gives him a little push…sending him sitting down on the bed and looking up at her with a smirk.

“Well, this is kind of nice,” Sara murmurs, stepping between his legs and resting her hands on his shoulders. “A new perspective of sorts…”

Leonard’s smirk grows. “Oh?” he says in response, reaching out to rest his hands lightly on her hips. “A new one for you, I supp…oof!”

That time, Sara had placed one hand on his chest and shoved, just a little harder, sending him sprawling backward. She promptly scoots forward, straddling his hips, a smirk rather firmly on her own face now.

“I kinda like this perspective,” she drawls, reaching out to pin his shoulders. “Don’t you?”

Len’s eyelids droop. “Well,” he says in return, “now that you mention it…”

And he hitches up his hips again, right into her center, making Sara gasp. With a muttered curse, she drops her hands to the snap of his pants, undoing them and trying to push them down almost frantically.

After a moment, Leonard chuckles and bucks his hips up again, reaching down to grab the edge of his jeans and work them down, even though Sara’s kind of in the way. She shifts enough that he manages to get the pants…and briefs…down past his ass, and Sara settles back onto solid…_very_ solid…warmth, moving with a gurgled gasp.

The noise Len makes then is even more ridiculous. His hands go back to her hips, harder now, holding her solid and steady, as he groans in a way that’s an absolutely intense turn-on. Sara, biting her lips, sits up a little farther, trying to hitch her own pants downward enough to do something about the burning need within her.

Finally, she gives in and scoots backward, standing to push her pants downward and off, not bothering with anything else before she crawls back onto him, wet and warm, wrapping her hands about his length (impressive) for a moment before doing anything further.

“OK?” she manages. She’d meant to draw this out longer, but…

The sound Len makes is both an affirmative and something more incoherent. Sara correctly interprets it, however, and sinks down on him without further ado, moaning even as he makes one of those abandoned noises again.

For a long moment, they just breathe, staring at each other, and then Sara slowly starts to move. In a second, Len does too, and they don’t take long to find a very effective rhythm. She splays her hands out on his chest, light-headed from pleasure, loving how he’s hitting all the right places, squirming as her breath comes a little bit faster.

“Len…” she whines as his hands tighten again, moving her firmly against him, with lovely, lovely pressure against her clit. “Please.”

His rough laughter nearly undoes her. “Already?” Len asks breathlessly as he manages to move even more abruptly against her. And again. And _again_.

“Yeah…” She whimpers, hating how helpless she sounds. “Fuck…”

“That’s…the idea…” And abruptly, he reaches down to rub firmly against her clit, in addition to the motion from his cock, and…fuck…

Sara cries out, completely abandoning the notion of staying quiet here in the house, shuddering, and apparently that pushes Leonard over the edge. He bucks against her again, making a noise that’s part howl and part groan, and that’s it for him, too.

Sara closes her eyes, just breathing a moment, then opens them and looks down at him. Len’s eyes, she thinks, are a little glassy, but his hands on her hips are still sure and gentle, and…

She leans down, abruptly, to kiss him, a kiss that’s far sweeter and, well, caring, than perhaps either of them planned.

“You could stay with me,” she murmurs against his lips. “Tonight.”

Len’s lips twitch, but there’s regret in his eyes, even now.

“But if I suddenly decide to start sleeping there, the entire peanut gallery is going to be wanting to know why,” he murmurs after a moment. “And where. And with whom.”

Sara pouts at him a minute before, well, disengaging, moving to his side and snuggling in. “Would that be so bad?” she asks quietly, after a moment.

In the silence that follows, she wonders how they’ve come here. From what she’ll clearly admit was just a play for friends with benefits, to…to…to this.

“No,” he says finally. “It wouldn’t. At all. But…maybe…not tonight…”

Sara knows she can’t help the flash of regret in her eyes then…and she thinks Len see it too. But he’s already made his call, and when she pulls away a moment later, he doesn’t say anything.

When she emerges from the attached bathroom a few minutes later, he enters too, quietly, and Sara redresses in silence, accompanied by regret. She’s not sure if it’s because she wasn’t bolder or because Len wasn’t, but it’s hard not to feel like they’ve let another chance slip by, and…maybe…maybe they should just let it go…but…

When Leonard does emerge, clothing in place, Sara’s fully dressed too. They watch each other a long moment.

“You goin’ back to the ship?” Len asks after a minute.

Sara’s still waffling. “I guess,” she hedges. “I don’t know. I suppose…I guess there’s no reason to…”

Her voice trails off. And after yet another minute, Len dips his head.

“Right,” he says quietly, turning away, reaching for the door. “Right…”

He opens it…to find Mick there, leaning against the wall opposite, arms folded, expression somewhere between amused and…pissed. He’d clearly heard what had been going on within.

Leonard freezes. Sara, from over Len’s shoulder, blinks at him. She’s unembarrassed at being caught, but frankly, she’d figured that Mick had figured it out long ago, at least relatively.

“Mick,” Len says, after a moment. An acknowledgement.

“Snart.” Mick’s eyes flicker to Sara. “Have fun?”

Sara feels her chin go up defiantly. “Yup,” she says. “Gotta problem with that?”

Mick, somewhat to her surprise, snorts. “Nope.” His gaze goes back to the stubborn-looking Leonard. “Well. Depending.”

Sara, abruptly, has had enough. She’s too tired to do this, and Mick apparently needs to address whatever he’s thinking without her in the picture.

“Right,” she says, passing past them both. “Whatever. You know where to find me.”

She not sure which of the two men she’s speaking to.


End file.
